


weary head to rest.

by romulus_adhara



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Detective fic, Exes, M/M, Magic Realism, Side WinIl, Urban Fantasy, Vampire Taeyong, Whodunnit, Witch Ten, childhood friends to lovers to exes to rivals to friends to lovers, side doyu, side johnmark, side kundery, side nohyuck, side xiaoyang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28194000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romulus_adhara/pseuds/romulus_adhara
Summary: “Our victim. Poor vampire heir. Beloved brother and friend. What happened to him? What led to him disappearing into the mist in the middle of the most-watched event of the year?”Ten straightens up and raises his chin, barely containing his glee. He clears his throat quietly and takes a breath.“What happened to Lee Donghyuck?”
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten
Comments: 17
Kudos: 73
Collections: NCTV Secret Santa 2020





	weary head to rest.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Warriorsqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warriorsqueen/gifts).



> this was supposed to be a deep urban fantasy thing loosely inspired by that one supernatural episode that was supposed to become a spinoff but never did with carry on my wayward son as the main ost but then i called * to brainstorm and this happened. now it’s something like knives out meets gossip girl but make it gay fantasy. carry on my wayward son is still somewhere in there tho. hope you enjoy reading it!

1

“A lot of things happened on the night of October 31st,” Ten starts, hands behind his back.

He tilts his head and slowly regards everyone in the room, eyes squinted only barely. He doesn’t want them to suspect anything, but he does want them nervous. Squirming in their seats and throwing giveaway glances at each other, wondering if he’s cracked their particular secret. 

Joke’s on them all. He’s cracked every single one.

“There’s only one we’re curious about, though, isn’t there?” Doyoung glares at him, drumming his fingers impatiently on the mahogany table in front of him. “Cut the drama.”

Ten puffs. “And deny myself the joy? Not so fast, dear cousin.”

Taeyong shifts next to him, his sweet smell washing over Ten in a curling velvet embrace. It allures and calls for him, but whether he finally submits to it or casts it aside like the distracting nuisance it has been all along depends on the outcome of this rather faithful meeting. 

“You see, a secret to a good mystery is motivation,” Ten says, head tilted. “And timing. Oh, how much depends on the timing.”

He sees Kun huff and check the time on his posh platinum wristwatch. Patience is a virtue not known to werewolves, but that’s not something Ten didn’t know before. 

“Late for something?” He cannot help but indulge. 

Kun squares his jaw. “No, but there is a limit to the time I can spend breathing in…” He makes a vague gesture indicating the colorful crowd comprised of his supposed mortal enemies and unlikely allies gathered in the drawing room. “ _All this_.”

“Pack it up, buttercub,” Sicheng drawls. “Makes you look guilty.”

“Says a man with blood on his collar,” Jaehyun points out, his eyes hooded behind emerald glasses. 

“Oh, this is fashion,” Sicheng explains with a smirk. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Ten cuts his wrist through the air and puts a stop to what would otherwise be a wonderful penis measuring contest. Bloody creatures, honestly. Almost makes him regret being one. 

“Let us start this.” He commands silence with a heavy gaze and feels delighted when he finds it works. “So, the timing. You see, what interrupted my vacation in this puddle of a town occurred both as an amazingly coincidental confluence of events and a carefully planned and beautifully executed scheme. Before I dive into what exactly happened and how it went down, let me introduce the scene.”

He can see Doyoung starting to contradict him, but before his dear annoying cousin can steal his thunder, he flips the cork board on his right in a smooth motion and renders all twenty of them speechless with a single picture in the middle of the pale pored space. 

“Our victim,” Ten says as wistfully as he can master, taking into account the fact that he couldn’t care less now that he knows the truth. “Poor vampire heir. Beloved brother and friend. What happened to him? What led to him disappearing into the mist in the middle of the most-watched event of the year?”

Ten straightens up and raises his chin, barely containing his glee. He clears his throat quietly and takes a breath. 

“What happened to Lee Donghyuck?”

2

_a week before the ball._

“Lee Donghyuck!”

Hyuck jerks away from the window and huffs in annoyance, turning on his heels to see his older brother storm toward him down the corridor, his church shoes clicking on the marble floor. Taeyong is a sight to behold, especially in his long velvet gown that flows behind him like wings of a vengeful valkyrie.

“You know,” Hyuck drawls, “it’s not as impressive when we _share_ that surname.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes as he stops before him, towering over Hyuck like the vampire clan leader he is. His pale cheeks flame with artificial rouge, whose smell Hyuck can sense rather starkly.

“What are you doing here?” Taeyong seethes, grabbing his arm, not without gentleness. “Our carriage awaits.”

“It’s just a Bentley, Yongie,” Hyuck murmurs.

His brother, however, isn’t paying any attention, as he’s busy dragging Hyuck behind him toward the staircase and down into the main hall. Lines of looming portraits lining up the walls watch their descent with undead gazes, and Hyuck barely represses a shudder as he tries to avoid looking at them too closely. Decades of growing up in this mansion, and he’s still plagued by the horror stories Yuta read to him before bed. So much for being a creature of horror himself.

Dorota throws his coat on him as they walk out, and he fastens the black plaque on his way down the stone stairs. The Bentley is waiting with doors open, but before climbing into his assigned seat, Hyuck casts a glance upon the sky. The gargoyles decorating the mansion’s columns look down on him impassively from their backdrop of grey, cloudless sky, their claws sinking into the marble of the rooftop. Hyuck feels like they’re watching him, too. Lately, everything seems to have had its gaze on the young vampire.

Yuta calls out to him from the car and Hyuck tears his gaze away reluctantly before taking his place. The door shuts close, and they’re off, down the cobblestone path and out the huge metal gates and into the city.

“I know I’ve said this a few times in the past...” Jaemin drawls from his seat near the other window.

“Which doesn’t lessen its annoyance,” Yuta comments in the same breath, twirling the crest ring on his middle finger.

“...but I really do not see a point in attending the church,” Jaemin continues, unabashed. “We’re vampires. It’s an oxymoron.”

“For hell’s sake,” Taeyong breathes out in annoyance, carding a hand through his white hair. “It’s about appearances, Nana. We’re one of the ruling parties of Rosehill. If we don’t show, it’s going to look bad, especially this close to the Order Ball.”

Donghyuck’s heart skips a beat but he remains calm, controlling his breathing. Growing up and going through puberty in a family of vampires taught him a lot about concealing his true feelings and covering up the mess of his play at independence.

“About that, by the way,” Yuta perks up, smirking. “Did you hear that Doyoung requested to host it next year?” 

Taeyong seethes under his breath. “Yes. What an arrogant fool. The board will never approve it.”

“Why?” Jaemin asks with a frown. Behind him, a forest paints out into the background behind the window. 

“Because it’s the only event in the year that _nobody_ is supposed to host alone,” Taeyong explains patiently. “It’s a symbol of our unity, not a dick-measuring contest. Doyoung announcing that he wants to take control over it is like spitting in the face of centuries-old values.”

“That’s rich,” Yuta says darkly, “coming from someone who _actually_ spit into Doyoung’s face at this summer’s charity function.”

Taeyong clears his throat, face straight, but in the presence of his closest family, he can afford a little smirk that tilts up the corners of his lips.

“The buffoon had it coming,” he murmurs. “In any case, it’s just a ploy to get my attention. That witch bastard knows better than anyone that what he asked for is impossible.”

His eyes trail up to the front of the car, where the dark glass separates them from the driver, and then to Donghyuck on the side seat. Hyuck shrivels under his sharp eyes and looks down on his knees, his throat suddenly dry. They ate last night, but he’s suddenly parched.

“There is an order to everything done in this city,” Taeyong announces rather pompously. They’ve all heard the speech a hundred times, but if there’s one thing the leader of Sanguis is famous for, it’s his oratory. “Five families rule over Rosehill, keeping it safe and peaceful and flourishing. We have our differences and alliances, but one thing we most certainly have in common is our goal of unity in the face of the world’s hostility. Which is why there will be no discord during the church picnic, and you will not, I repeat, Jaemin, you _will not_ sneak away to ruin Anathe’s food or mess with Lupus’ cars _again_ , you hear me?”

Jaemin goes alarmingly pale and presses his lips into a thin line. “You _laughed_.”

“And I deeply regret doing it in front of everybody,” Taeyong reminds him. “Rivalry can be successfully carried out outside of these functions, and a church service with the most respectable members of our society is _not_ a place for it. Understood?”

“Understood,” Jaemin and Donghyuck murmur in unison. 

The forest clears and they ride out into the open field on the city’s outskirts, where a pristine white chapel rises above the cemetery at the edge of the trees. The makeshift parking lot on the grass is filled with cars, and even from here, Donghyuck recognizes four distinct clan leader vehicles. Taeyong, meanwhile, stares Yuta down.

Yuta studies his nails, pointedly ignoring his brother, but Taeyong is the leader for a reason. After the car stops but they stay in their places, Taeyong blocking the exit, Yuta sighs audibly and throws his hands up.

“Fine!” He concedes. “But if one of them trips over my cape again, I will not be taking responsibility.”

Taeyong allows himself a barely-there grin and nods with content.

“It _is_ a long cape,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Truly.”

3

They climb out of the car just in time for the bell to toll the end of the service and the flock of parish to start filling out onto the lawn, where the long picnic tables have already been set. Taeyong flicks his wrist for the driver to discard the food they brought on the tables, uncaring as to where it will go. They won’t be eating it, anyway.

He fixes his hair and straightens up, grinning as Father Gabriel approaches him with a condescending smile. Taeyong would very much like to wipe it away, preferably with his fist, but he’s been raised to be a polite clan leader. Besides, Father Gabriel isn’t aware that the reason Taeyong and his family always miss services isn't tardiness or a desire to be pretentious.

After polite greetings and explanations that yes, once again, they’ve performed their penance at their own chapel back at the mansion that Father Gabriel remarked upon during his last visit — just a garden toolshed, in all frankness, but the priest doesn’t have to know that — Taeyong lets the family get lost in the crowd. He may frown upon striking relationships with some of these people — even if his own guilt in that sin is the reason he’s so wary of that, but he can’t just forbid his brothers from having friends.

It’s bitter on his tongue, especially when he sees Donghyuck’s sandy head disappear amidst the youngsters crowd, because he knows full well who exactly his little brother is hunting down. He hopes at least that Jaemin is nearby and can supervise his sibling.

“Taeyong!” Father Gabriel calls out to him again. “I want you to meet someone.”

Reluctantly but still politely, Taeyong smiles at a woman standing next to him, a blonde and rather striking young lady with a blooming smile of ash roses. Taeyong’s smile turns more genuine as he notes the painstakingly human sweet smell that whiffs off of her long hair.

“Lee Taeyong,” he introduces himself. “ _Lee Family Therapeutics_.”

“Oh, I saw your hospital in the city!” The woman exclaims with a strong New York accent. “I’m Dani Clayton, nice to meet you!”

What an enthusiastic lass, Taeyong notes to himself as he kisses her gloved knuckles.

“What brings you to Rosehill?” He inquires, tilting his head.

“I’m a new _au pair_ down at the Bly Manor,” Dani explains a little sheepishly.

Taeyong doesn’t let his distaste or surprise show, instead bowing his chin. A human-owned mansion at the other end of the county, pretty beautiful but unpleasantly haunted. The woman doesn’t look that scared, _yet_ , but he hopes she has a strong stomach. The ghosts down there aren’t malevolent, at least in Taeyong’s experience, yet they can still be a bit of a bother.

“Congratulations on landing the job,” he says instead of unleashing the truth on the unsuspecting au pair.

Dani nods with a smile, and Father Gabriel clears his throat.

“I was hoping you could show Dani around?” He asks, eyes glinting in that matchmaking fashion of his. “You _are_ the most respected man in the city, after all.”

Taeyong hears Doyoung somewhere in the crowd scoff at the same time he sees Dani roll her eyes subtly. He barely contains a smile as she meets his eyes, spooked at being caught, but then she sees a kindred spirit in his face and loosens up.

“Of course, Father Gabriel,” he agrees politely, just to get him off their back.

If Taeyong’s intuition is correct, and it always is, Miss Dani Clayton is as interested in him, or any man for that matter, as he is interested in any woman he’s ever met. Father Gabriel barely contains his glee as he departs in a cheerful wobble.

“I apologize for this,” Taeyong clears his throat. “He means well.”

“Many men do,” Dani remarks before grabbing a glass of wine from the table and turning to stand by his side facing the crowd. “So? What’s the gossip?”

Taeyong giggles and shakes his head, finding himself drawn to the woman, a friendly spirit dancing in the mirth of her eyes.

“Alright, where to begin,” he says theatrically, rubbing his chin. “Well, you know me. My family practically founded this city along with four other clans. The Lees are in charge of hospitals and clinics, as you’ve already noted, plus we have some more business investments that would rather bore you.”

_And make you a risk to keep around, but you don’t have to know that._

“The tall man you see ogling the Jesus statue is my brother,” he continues wistfully, pointing at Yuta. “The two boys on the other side of the table harassing Father Gabriel are my youngest. Yuta, Donghyuck, and Jaemin.”

“Do they need tutoring in manners?” Dani jokes. “I can spare a few hours.”

“Oh, don’t brother,” Taeyong sighs. “Decades of ethics classes wouldn’t fix those three.”

_And I would know, I’ve taught those._

“Anyway, then there are the Kims,” he continues, lips curled, as he points to Doyoung and his posse by the vegetarian dishes. “Doyoung, his brother Jeno, and their associates Mark and Yangyang. They run every pharmacy and remedial shop in town, as well as control most of the food supply.”

“That’s a lot of business,” Dani points out.

Taeyong’s stomach drops. He clears his throat.

“It used to belong to two families, Doyoung’s father and uncle, but…” He takes a measured breath. “His uncle didn’t exactly leave a reliable heir, so Doyoung took over both family business.”

Dani whistles under her breath, but sputters when Doyoung meets her eyes impassively. Taeyong rubs his eyebrow scar with his middle finger, watching in delight how the witch leader scoffs. That ostentatious bastard probably loathes the fact that Father Gabriel turned to Taeyong and not him. That does feel nice.

“As for the drinks,” Taeyong goes on, “you have Qian Kun and his family.”

He leads Dani a little to the left, searching for the werewolf by the table. They’re next to the cured meats, which isn’t that much of a surprise. The smell hits his nose unpleasantly, but he keeps his distaste to the minimum. Their guest is entitled to form her own opinions.

“Kun, the CEO,” Taeyong says a little quieter, indicating the fair-haired man, “his younger brother Jisung, and his minions, Wong Yukhei and Moon Taeil.”

Yukhei sends a warning glance his way, but Taeyong simply raises his hand and wiggles his fingers at Kun’s main beta, arching an eyebrow in daring. Taeil touches Yukhei’s elbow, holding him back from undoubtedly causing a scene and embarrassing their entire family.

“Then, there are the Jeongs.”

As if in response to the introduction he definitely didn’t hear, having been on the other side of the glade, Jaehyun laughs and pops his famous dimples, sending at least five women in his audience swooning. Taeyong sighs under his breath but doesn’t comment out of respect for their childhood friendship. The siren leader catches his eyes and winks. 

“Jaehyun is the CEO of the company that supplies anything related to sea hunting and travel,” he explains. “The man next to him, Johnny, is his right hand, and the boys gorging themselves on cake are Renjun and Xiaojun, Johnny’s brothers. There’s also Sungchan, Jaehyun’s younger brother, but he’s away in boarding school.”

“But the sea is hundreds of miles away from here,” Dani notes with a frown. “What are they doing so far inland?”

Taeyong pouts his lips in thought, pondering on how to explain it to her without uncovering the deep secret about forest lakes and underground kingdoms.

“Came on vacation a couple generations ago,” he says vaguely. “Stuck around.”

Dani snorts out a rather charming laugh, and he smiles down on her, noting that they would make good friends, if not for the whole— urban legend thing. If she sticks around for long enough, he reckons, that can be overcome, but only time will tell.

An echo of voices travels down to them, and they look toward the ruckus in the center of the crowd caused by a tall dark-haired boy with a mischievous grin on his face. Another man approaches him and pats his pockets, making him surrender an array of shiny petards. The boy pouts but follows his leader to their own gathering.

“What about them?” Dani wonders.

“Ah, that is… Hendery,” Taeyong sighs. “He’s the right hand of Sicheng, our resident clown.”

He can practically hear his father chastising him, but there are not a lot of ways to describe the shapeshifters and their leader other than calling things by their rightful names.

“Sicheng and his family are the benefactors of entertainment, I guess,” he sums it up. “They run every cinema, theater, club, hotel, restaurant and so on in town. Jungwoo and Chenle are his most trusted advisors.”

Or, most trusted enablers of the chaos that are Sicheng and Hendery.

“It’s a fun crowd,” Dani notes politely. 

Taeyong snorts and raises a glass that he’s never drinking out of.

“You don’t know the half of it.”

4

The moon illuminates Mark’s path between the thick three trunks like a heavenly flashlight switched on specifically for him. He traces his steps back to the forking road and picks his rucksack back, flinging it over his shoulders. His messenger bag clinks merrily at his side with all the little bottles and vials now filled with herbs and materials needed for their spells. It’s not like gathering is on Mark’s errands list, but he knows Doyoung would approve of him getting his hands dirty even despite his high status in the clan. A witch that forgets their roots is a lousy one, at best.

One thing left for him to find are wild poppies, and perhaps, Mark admits in the privacy of his mind, he put it off until the end for a very specific reason. His breathing hitches as he makes his way down the trail that gets softer and muddier the closer he gets to his destination — the only place the wild poppies he needs grow at. It’s not their familiar soil, yet for the past few months, a special breed has been sprouting there, and they need it both for research and a new sleeping draught. 

The first light bunnies of the moon reflected off of the lake hit his face before he even steps out of the woods. He pauses on the edge, looking out onto the mirror surface and noting the absolute tranquility with which everything seems to exist here. Not a sound amiss, but a perfect symphony of calm and peace. Mark tightens his grip on the bag and steps forward. He feels nervous, compelled to clear his throat, but he dares not ruin the quietude with his gruff voice.

“You’re late today.”

Mark startles and steps back, tripping over a root of the tree sticking out of the ground. A panicked frenzy hits his mind as he fears for the glass vials that are now on the way down with him, but before anything irreversible can happen to ruin hours of his hard work, he freezes in the air.

Suspended and flaming, Mark looks up at the wide gleeful eyes of his savior. Strong exposed arms bulge in his line of vision, their palms buried in Mark’s waist, holding securely yet respectfully. 

“You startled me,” Mark whispers.

Johnny’s lips swim in a smile that shows sharp teeth — and even those are attractive, for heaven’s sake — a lovely cupid bow that’s been the object of Mark’s obsessive dreams quite often curling attractively.

“I apologize dearly,” the siren says earnestly. “But surely, you must have expected me to be here.”

_More like hoped, you insanely alluring oaf._

Either tired of holding him or deciding to spare Mark’s racing heart, Johnny tugs him up and holds his waist until Mark is steady on his feet. A quick check over his supplies shows that nothing was damaged, and yet Mark still takes extra time to make sure. And perhaps, to avoid meeting Johnny’s eyes again. One time for a night is intoxicating enough.

“Are you looking for wild poppies?” Johnny guesses, stepping away from Mark and resting his arms on the small of his back.

Mark kinda misses their sight, but the situation also provides him an amazing view of Johnny’s exposed broad chest, so he decides to pick his battles.

“How did you know?” He asks in a weak voice before looking on the ground in search of yellow flowers.

“They bloomed tonight,” Johnny informs him. “I figured you would be here. That’s why I relieved Shotaro from the guard duty.”

Mark’s cheeks, already flushed beyond tact, flame up even more as he can’t hold back a bashful smile and a rather stupid chuckle.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He knows Johnny is looking at him but he can’t make himself face the man, the overbearing force of his crush pressing on his neck, keeping it bent. Absentmindedly, he realizes there are no flowers in their usual bed.

“Stange,” Mark murmurs, frowning.

“Oh!” Johnny exclaims, startling him again.

He glances at Mark with mirth dancing in his eyes but doesn’t say anything, instead reaching into the pouch hanging low on his hips and pulling out a birth of fresh, pretty, yellow flowers.

“I realized you would be tired by the time you got here,” Johnny explains. Mark wonders if he’s imagining the shyness in the voice of the great city’s heartthrob. “So I took the liberty of gathering them. And don’t worry, I took all the precautions.”

Mark bites his lip and reaches for the flowers, checking them before commenting. But there’s nothing to complain about — Johnny did everything perfectly, pulling the flowers with their roots, not a single of them damaged. Mark cradles the poppies in his palms with a warm smile before hiding them into a special compartment in his bag.

“How did you know I needed them with the roots?” He whispers, hugging his frame and not daring to look further than Johnny’s sunflower tattoo.

Which gets closer in the next moment, the siren crossing the space between them. Mark has no choice but to look up if he doesn’t want to stay staring at Johnny’s lips. It used to be that he only reached Johnny’s chest, but many moons have passed since the carefree days of their youth. These days, they are both seconds in their clans and bear mountains of responsibility.

One thing stayed the same, though, and that is Mark’s raging crush on Johnny Suh.

“I’ve been watching how you do it for years, Mark,” Johnny says with a chuckle that washes over Mark’s face. “I know what you need. Always.”

Mark swallows thickly. His throat clicks as he meets Johnny’s eyes after all, wondering if this is the night they finally cross the line that’s been drawn by years of flirting and pining and unspoken truths. Johnny’s eyes hold all the secrets of Mark’s heart, and he finds himself leaning in.

“Do you…” He tries, but then fails to speak. Johnny watches him intently, giving him time to gather his courage. “I know the sirens are performing, but it doesn’t take all night, and I was wondering if… If you had a date for the Ball?”

Like the sun coming out from behind grim clouds, Johnny’s smile blooms on his face.

“No,” he says quickly. “I wanted to ask this one boy at church, but he kept evading me.”

“Oh?” Mark frowns, his heart faltering.

Johnny looks at him pointedly, probably sensing Mark’s readiness to come to all the wrong conclusions, and that’s when Mark remembers this morning. He _had_ to keep evading Johnny, but certainly not out of his own volition.

“ _Oh._ ” He breathes out and giggles nervously. “Doyoung was in a bad mood because Taeyong said something to him, so I had to follow him around and make sure he doesn’t explode.”

With a chuckle, Johnny nods. “I see, then. It’s admirable of you.”

“Well, if worse comes to worst, I’m the guy to talk to Taeyong,” he explains. “For some reason, he tolerates me the best out of everyone in Sanguis.”

Johnny touches his wrist and lets his fingers stay there, right above Mark’s pulse point. “I have it on good authority that Taeyong finds you not only tolerable, but actually quite delightful.”

“Really?” Mark grins widely, bubbles of joy making their way to his voice. “That’s really cool.”

He sniffs and looks at their hands, moving his wrist up to catch Johnny’s fingers and play with them. It’s really nice how they fit together, so nice Mark would like their hands to stay linked forever.

“If you were able to get that boy alone,” he whispers, “he would say _yes_ to anything you’d ask of him.”

It’s probably the night air that’s making him so bold, but it’s also the bravery of looking into Johnny’s eyes and seeing his feelings returned there. And it’s not like Mark is a blushing virgin. When he wants something, he is more than capable of finding enough courage to get it.

And he’s never wanted anything in his life with the same force he wants Johnny.

The man in questions catches the undertones of desire in Mark’s voice. He leans in and breathes in, his nose trailing up Mark’s jaw and to his cheek, where he leaves a chaste yet lingering kiss.

“For now, I only need a date,” he whispers as a full body shudder constricts Mark’s breathing.

Johnny chuckles and grins before stepping away but not untangling their hands. They hover in the air between them as Johnny steps backwards until the lake waters start licking at his heels.

“I’ll see you at the ball,” he promises with a cheeky grin.

Finally, he lets go and turns around, quickly walking into the water and diving in. The ripple he causes goes on for a few seconds before smoothing out and settling back into the glossy mirror of the starry sky.

Mark bites his lip and giggles freely, watching the place on the lake Johnny disappeared to.

“I’ll see you, Johnny,” he whispers and feels, like never before in his life, happy.

5

One important thing about leading a clan of notoriously mischievous shapeshifters is making sure to be the nastiest of them all, which is why Sicheng’s schedule is so busy in the weeks leading up to the Order Ball that it somehow completely slips his mind to get an appropriate gown for the day. It occurs to him that he really needs to get an assistant — an actually professional one, not Hendery — as he flings a heavy piece of fabric over his shoulders and stands up on a little pedestal to get measured.

The tailor nods and drops to his knees, a position all too familiar to Sicheng, before whipping out a measuring tape and getting to work. Sicheng sighs and meets his own eyes in the mirror, wondering how long this will take. He has a date to entertain before dinner. Maybe, if all goes well, _for_ dinner.

The door to the salon flings open so suddenly the tailor jerks and almost plunges a pin into Sicheng’s leg. He glares at him before looking up at the chaos of his right hand. Hendery grins, showing that his dramatic entrance was planned, and falls onto one of the loveseats.

“You look hot,” he compliments. “Your lover will fall to your feet.”

“Which one?” Sicheng smirks. It reminds him. He needs to text several people. “What are you doing here? I thought I told you to overlook the opening of our new hotel in Rhode Island?”

“I’m leaving in an hour,” Hendery informs him with a flick of a wrist. “ _If_ I leave. I might not be back in time for Halloween.”

“If you don’t fuck around and be responsible, you will make it.”

Hendery stares at him. Sicheng clears his throat.

“Right. It’s _you_ we’re talking about.” He sighs as he watches the tailor move to his back. “Well, what do you want me to do? I can’t spare Chenle, and I don’t even want to _imagine_ the fuss Jungwoo will put up if I tell him he has to miss the Ball. He’s been preparing since the last one.”

With a pout, Hendery tilts his head backward and moves his lips soundlessly, no doubt praying to Dionysus or whatever deity he’s worshipping this week. Then, he bites his lip and looks down on Sicheng with that wild-card glint Sicheng is slightly scared of.

“What if I tell you I have an amazing piece of gossip for you to prey on?” He offers in a purr. “Will you let me stay, then?”

“I told you, I would let you stay free of charge if I had anyone to send in your stead,” Sicheng says tiredly. “Unless that piece of gossip of yours includes a fully-functional businessman that I trust enough to send to Newport, you can keep it.”

Hendery pouts even stronger. “It doesn’t include a businessman, but it _does_ include a man you would _love_ to work if only to piss Doyoung off.”

Now _that_ gets Sicheng’s attention. He snaps his head toward his second.

“Spill.”

“Will you find a replacement for me?”

“I’ll try my best,” he grits out.

“Good enough for me." Hendery smirks and sits up. “So, I was looking over the bookings at the Inn this morning, just for funsies, and saw someone who booked an overnight for Halloween night.”

“And?” Sicheng shakes his head. “Someone’s probably coming in for the Ball.”

“No, actually, I have it on good authority that this man _despises_ the Order, and so to avoid it, he’s staying in the city before moving into the house he’ll be welcome at for at least the next month, if his travel info is to be believed.”

Hendery is practically exploding with giddiness, but Sicheng’s nothing if not an enabler, so he makes a special effort to coax it out of him in favor of just forcing him to spill it all at once.

“Whose house, pray tell?” He asks with as much breathlessness as he can master.

Hendery sees right through his act but ignores it, playing along for his own benefit.

“ _Anathe Mansion_.”

What? Sicheng frowns and shakes his head.

“Doyoung’s residence?” He curls his lips. “I haven’t heard of Kims hosting someone ever since they housed two fam— _Oh shit_.”

Hendery’s grin threatens to split his face. After a momentary shock, Sicheng unfreezes and flicks his wrist, requesting that the tailor gives them some privacy. Once the man is gone, he storms down from the stool and looms over Hendery.

“You’re not telling me that little piece of a twink bitch is back?” He seethes, memories flashing past.

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” Hendery purrs. “But I don’t think he’s back, maybe on vacation or some shit.”

“Huh,” Sicheng murmurs.

He crosses his arms on the small of his back and comes over to the window, glancing out at the muddy streets clad in fog and soft-hued street lights.

“I wasn’t sure if you knew about him,” Hendery calls out. “But I have my answer now, I guess.”

“Knew _about_ him?” Sicheng scoffs. “I _know him_. At least I did when we were kids.”

“Which was what, fifty years ago?” Hendery murmurs under his breath.

Sicheng throws a pin at him without turning around. “Thirty.”

“Gee, I keep forgetting how old you are.”

“I reckon he looks about twenty-eight now,” Sicheng says, unheeding of his bitch of a second. “I wonder how his human-loving ass explained _that_ to his coworkers.”

His face is stark clear before Sicheng’s eyes — the dark hair, sharp eyes, cheeky smirk. He was beautiful as a teenager, Sicheng doesn’t doubt he only bloomed ever more, and if Sicheng needs a magical facelift now and then, that man can thank his witch genes for aging excruciatingly slowly. Despite the circumstances of his departure, Sicheng finds himself quite excited to see him again. Revive some old traditions, perhaps.

“So he’s going to be at the Inn the night of the ball?”

“Yep. Reservation booked and confirmed.”

“Good.” He turns around and storms toward Hendery, who stands up from the loveseat eagerly when he sees the look in Sicheng’s eyes. “Find someone to replace you in Newport. You’re staying.”

Hendery whoops and shakes his fists in excitement. 

“My gossip worked?”

“You can say so.” Sicheng rubs his chin. “I need you here. We need to get his attention, and you’re the best person for the job.”

Hendery cackles like an old-movies witch and whips out his notebook. Sicheng smirks. Halloween night just went from exciting to an absolute thrill.

6

Full moon yet blooms on the horizon when Kun shakes off the last of the wolf and stands tall in the clearing, towering over his pack as they slowly transform back and come to their senses. Yukhei and Taeil are already done, as usual, and now they’re standing on his two sides.

“About the conversation from last night we never finished,” Yukhei speaks up, voice still gruff from the night.

Kun sighs and rubs his forehead. “I thought we _did_ finish it.”

“Nope,” Yukhei chirps. “You can’t just miss the Order Ball, Kun, it’s not becoming.”

“Seriously?” Taeil snorts. “You’re the one to talk about manners?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Kun yelps, looking between them.

“Nothing,” Yukhei growls, eyes flashing gold.

Kun feels an urge to prod, because it’s not normal for his betas to keep secrets from him — but then again, Taeil is his morality police officer, and he’d never keep things from him if they had the potential to impact the family. Which means whatever Yukhei is hiding is rather harmless, and, if Kun thinks about Yukhei’s habit to make trouble, it’s better left undisturbed by his attention.

“Nothing,” Taeil parrots innocently. “But he _is_ right. We can’t miss the ball.”

It’s a tired argument, the one they’ve had hundreds of times each year without fail, and every time Kun caves into their reasoning, he promises himself to withstand those the next time the Order Ball rolls around. He’s never succeeded once, but he doesn’t despair.

The morning breeze is cool on his skin, and he picks up his clothes, going about putting them on with a sardonic sigh. The betas follow suit, and for a while, it’s quiet. He almost believes they’ve dropped the subject.

“It’s not like you’ll have to _talk_ to anybody,” Yukhei speaks up, crushing Kun’s hopes. “Just make a speech like everybody else, don’t tear out Taeyong’s throat, and mingle in the crowd.”

“You can even get laid,” Taeil smirks. “As a treat.”

Kun bares his teeth. “I can get laid anytime I want.”

“Sure, sure,” Lucas placates.

Kun growls at them, inadvertently sending a few younger betas into a panic. He slaps himself on the forehead mentally and goes about calming them down and convincing him he’s not mad at anyone. They’re sensitive when they’re young, especially after a full moon, and he should know better than taking the bait of a conversation with Yukhei in front of them. After a few minutes, he can delegate the task to Jisung. He pats his younger brother on the shoulder with a fatherly smile and rejoins his main betas, squishing a fleeting regret about their actual father not being around to impart wisdom and attend balls.

“By the way,” Yukhei says when he joins them, seemingly continuing his previous conversation with Taeil. Kun knows better. “I forgot to tell you last night. I ran into Jungwoo in town, and he happened to mention that Hendery is staying for the Ball.”

Years of practice and immense power of being a werewolf alpha allow Kun to control himself. Not a single muscle twitches as he raises his chin and looks at Yukhei impassively.

“And why should I care about that little mongrel?” He challenges.

“No reason.” Yukhei smiles.

“If only the fact that you never stoop so low as to actively despise anyone,” Taeil notes. “Well, aside from _Sanguis_ , of course, but that’s beside the point.”

“Yes,” Yukhei says, “but when it comes to Hendery, you go out of your way to make it _extra_ known you hate him.”

Kun doesn’t hate him. He just wants to smash him against the wall when he sees him and even the memory of his face makes him so agitated he feels like ripping a tree out with its roots. He clears his throat.

“What are you trying to say?” 

“There’s a lot of dark rooms at the Order Castle,” Taeil sing-songs.

“A lot of dances,” Yukhei continues.

“Plenty of time to sneak away.”

“And take the mongrel with you.”

“To execute revenge.”

“Of course.”

“Nothing unseemly.”

“Never.”

Kun truly, to the deepest core of his soul, can’t stand them.

And yet, he finds himself conceding.

“Fine,” he breathes out. “We’ll go to the Ball.”

He ignores Taeil and Yukhei high-fiving behind his back. They can scheme and assume whatever they want, but their slimy smirks are there for all the wrong reasons. If there _is_ anything Kun feels for Wong Kunhang, it’s an all-consuming, earth-shuttering, raging… _hatred_.

7

_the night of the ball._

The annual Order Ball is an event deeply revered by every single citizen of Rosehill and known within and beyond the state line. The mask it wears much like its attendees is simple and elegant — a fundraiser ball thrown by the biggest companies to support the homeless in the upcoming winter and supply a string of charities endorsed by the Order, a _country club_ residing in Rosehill.

The truth, alike to the identities of the ball’s benefactors, is much more intricate and, some would say, pretentious. The Order has been established in the city centuries ago by its forefathers and ancestors of the foolish men now ruling over it in order to stop the war between the clans and establish any semblance of, you guessed it, order. The added bonus of making an enormous profit by partnering up rather than sabotaging each other aided in a quick and almost painless incorporation of the system.

The Order meets sporadically over the year for business meetings and dinner parties, but it’s a truly rare occasion to get all five families under one roof without the risk of someone ending up mutilated by the end of the night; yet, every year, on Halloween, the clans put aside their differences and come together under the glorious marble dome of the Order Castle for a night of dancing, drinking, money-talking, and plain old fun. Just for one night, all five of the leaders have to work extra hard to keep their families, mostly rivaling with each other, on a short leash in addition to milking the guests for their money. The young heads of the Families usually manage to pull it off, yet still, it is a hard labor.

Which is why when it all goes to hell, it’s not really a surprise to anyone in attendance.

//

The man flinches when the train whistle rings out right above his head. He wipes the rain out of his jetlag-tired eyes and rubs them, fighting the oncoming headache that started blooming the second he took off from Heathrow. He grunts and flings the bag over his shoulder, walking away from the platform and lighting up a cigarette. 

“Where’s my cab, cousin dearest?” He murmurs into the smoke, but no answer comes. 

He looks over at a telephone booth nearby, but there wouldn’t be any point in using it if he hopes to catch Doyoung. Only staff are at home, and it’s not the place he’s heading for anyway. Doyoung’s annoyed voice still rings in his ears from the conversation they had two weeks ago, and he still doesn’t get how his cousin could be so reluctant to understand his reasons for missing the Ball. Hard-headed principles are a family trait, and he expected that Doyoung, of all people, would understand his distaste for coming face to face with the so-called _elite_. He already knows he will have to make an appearance at a meeting next week, and that’s enough of the Order fill. He spent the last thirty years successfully avoiding them, and he’s gladly looking forward to another thirty. 

The platform is empty, eerie yellow light flowing from the train’s window onto the red cobblestone shining with rain. He fixes his hat, forgetting he still has a cigarette pinched between his fingers, and the water soaks it through in a second. The man seethes at it and discards it into the nearest trash bin. Here he thought he could escape the British weather by traveling to another continent. No such luck.

The train whistle goes off again, and in a few moments, the great metal beast hisses with steam as it starts moving, slowly gaining speed before screeching out into the darkness of the night. He checks the clock. Midnight.

White headlights fall on him from the direction of the gates and he looks up to see his bespoken cab come to a halt. He huffs out a breath and moves toward it, careful of stepping into a puddle. These are really not his autumn shoes. He should’ve known better.

The cabin is warm when he climbs into the backseat, discarding his bag on the floor to avoid making a wet mess on the leather. The driver fixes the rearview mirror and levels him with a tired gaze.

“Lee Yongqin?”

The man flinches but nods. The cab takes off, carefully maneuvering between the poles to ride out onto the main road. The window is foggy and wet but he can still distinguish the familiar forest as they speed through it. He suppresses a sigh.

“New to the city?”

He chuckles under his breath and shakes his head.

“I grew up here,” he says quietly.

“I figured,” the driver murmurs.

“Oh? How so?”

He catches the driver’s eyes again and notices a subtle red glint. The hairs on his nape stand out, but he controls himself. These rivalries are in his blood yet not in his nature.

“You look like a local, mister Lee.”

He smiles.

“It’s Ten,” he says quietly. “Just Ten.”

8

_the morning after the ball._

“ _Kim Doyoung, come the fuck out here!_ ”

The _Anathe_ family mansion falls deathly quiet as Taeyong’s voice booms through the halls before exploding with sound and voices coming from all over the house. Taeyong ignores the calls of the staff and grips his gloves even tighter, the leather creaking between his wet fingers. The rain started up again an hour ago, soaking him to the bone in the time it took him to storm from his car up the stairs to the front door of the last house in this city he’s ever welcomed in.

Finally, the man he’s looking for appears in all his pretentious glory, emerging at the top of the wide wooden staircase at the center of the hall.

“What in hell is going on here?” He screams out before his eyes land on Taeyong and squint with disdain. “What the fuck are you doing in my home, Lee?”

It takes him a few moments to run down the stairs and stop before Taeyong. He uses his few extra inches to tower over him, and Taeyong would find it amusing if he wasn’t filled with murderous intent. He steps into Doyoung’s face and flinches from the overwhelming scent of herbs and spices. Freaking Colonel Sanders.

“Where is my brother?” Taeyong seethes, breathing heavily, the claws of panic digging deeper and deeper into his heart with every second his little brother is in the wind.

A flash of surprise passes over Doyoung’s face before it constricts with anger. “Have you tried the nearest bar? That’s where that whore likes to spend his nights.”

Taeyong steps away in confusion before connecting the dots and advancing again.

“I’m not talking about Yuta,” he breathes out. “I mean Donghyuck.”

Doyoung shakes his head. “Why in Hell should I know? I don’t keep track of your leeches, Lee.”

A greater wave of emotions hits Taeyong, almost suffocating him in its intensity. He chews on his next words, even in the throes of his fear realizing that he has appearances to keep and secrets to guard.

“He never came back from the Ball,” he says slowly, measuring his words and tone of voice.

“And?” Doyoung flings his hands up in the air. “Check with his friends or something. Why do I have to teach you parenting 101? Your father stuck around for longer than mine did.”

It’s a fleeting streak of vulnerability that Doyoung extremely rarely allows himself in Taeyong’s presence, and something, a long-forgotten affection from the times of their childhood that he buried deep in his soul when he took the reigns of the family, calls out to him to find out why Doyoung is so rattled as to drop a line like that.

But then his mind supplies an image — not a memory now but a conjured fantasy — of Donghyuck’s pale dead face, and he grits his teeth.

“I’m asking _you_ because—”

“Doyoung?”

The new voice cuts into his perception, and he startles to look up at Jeno at the top of the stairs.

What?

“Taeyong?” Jeno calls out, strutting down to them. “What are you doing here?”

Taeyong steps around Doyoung and toward the boy, ignoring Doyoung’s protests.

“Donghyuck is missing.”

Jeno’s eyes widen as he stops in his tracks. He looks tired and unnaturally pale, wringing his hands like a scared damsel.

“What do you mean, missing?” He asks in a voice barely above a whisper. “He didn’t come home last night?”

“No,” Taeyong says urgently. “And since you’re here, I’m guessing—”

“That’s enough!” Doyoung interrupts, grabbing his bicep and pulling him away. “Don’t address my brother, you bloodsucking parasite.”

Taeyong whips around and shakes Doyoung’s arm off sharply.

“He _wants_ to be addressed, so I fucking _will_ do it if he knows where _my_ brother is!”

Doyoung’s always been a quick man to rage, and this morning has already started horribly, so it’s only natural that the blood rushes to his cheeks. His eyes come alight with the tell-tale purple, and he raises his hand with an energy ball already welling up inside his palm. Taeyong’s body moves into a fight stance on instinct. Jeno’s protests come as if through a fog as he gets ready to strike. He hears Yangyang and Mark running into the hall with screams falling from their lips, but it’s pointless.

Yet, the great battle of _Anathe_ Mansion Hall never comes.

Through the daze in his mind, Taeyong registers the door creaking open once again. Doyoung’s focus wavers when he looks at the newcomer.

“Well,” a new voice comes from the entrance, a long impassive drawl. “That’s a familiar scene.”

A waving surge of ice and fire passes through Taeyong’s veins as the recognition comes. He freezes, struggling to make his body move, but it barely budges. The only thing he manages through the shock is turning his head to meet his eyes.

Yongqin drops his bag on the floor and cards a hand through his unkempt dark hair, shaking the water off of his fingers as he looks between Doyoung and Taeyong. Taeyong’s throat goes dry as he takes the man in, disbelieving and shaken to his core. Yongqin’s eyes only graze past him, never lingering for long. 

He takes in the scene, noticing the energy ball still crackling in Doyoung’s palm and Taeyong’s body still in the defense stance. He sighs and shakes his head.

“It’s like I never fucking left.”

9

It has been thirty years. Three full decades of being away. Ten left this life behind and built a new one for himself in the Albion, bid adieu to the petty quarrels and anachronistic rivalries and found something new and fresh and peaceful for himself. His life in the UK isn’t without its dark moments, but in all this time, nothing that happened to him — not a single heartbreak, murder case, or high-speed chase — nothing ever made him feel so spent and tired as his family and Rosehill ever did. 

Thirty years away, only making contact with his immediate family and never visiting this godforsaken city; and yet, he still can’t look at Taeyong without his heart breaking into thirty pieces, one for each year he lived with nothing but memories, one for each fucking year he spent without a single word from the man, without a single phone call, without a single apology.

“Yongqin,” Taeyong breathes out, and yeah, that _stings_.

“It’s Ten for you,” Ten reminds coldly before looking at his cousin. “Put that thing away, will you? You’re scaring the hoes.”

The hoes in question gasp at him in unison.

“Rude,” Yangyang pouts.

“You haven’t changed,” Mark rumbles.

“Oh, believe me, Markie, I have,” Ten sighs. “The hell is going on here?”

Doyoung reacts first, heeding Ten’s words and discharging the magic before remembering his manners and darting forward for a hug. Ten pats his back with a flinch, a little — _a lot_ — uncomfortable with public displays of affection when said public is Lee Taeyong.

“Hello, little brother,” he murmurs, rubbing the nape of Doyoung’s neck. “Sorry I’m late. The Inn had an amazing breakfast buffet.”

Doyoung snorts and pulls away, his hand lingering on Ten’s shoulder.

“I trust your trip was okay?”

“I…” Ten tries to find his words, but he’s still very much aware of a staring vampire on his right. He breathes out sharply and turns to meet his eyes. “Do you mind?”

Taeyong blinks like an owl and averts his gaze. His scar looks just as it did the day he got it. Ten swallows. Taeyong frowns and shakes his head before looking up again.

“I’m sorry for intruding on your family reunion,” he says, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “But I won’t leave without my brother.”

Doyoung clicks his tongue. “Well then, I’ll tell James to get you a tent for the lawn, because I have no idea where Donghyuck is.”

Ten’s mind supplies a memory of a cherub-faced little kid that used to beg him for piggy rides and blood lollipops. He frowns.

“Has something happened to Donghyuck?” He asks despite himself, searching Taeyong’s worried face for answers.

“Yes,” Taeyong breathes out, leaning in a little in his enthusiasm. “He’s gone missing.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “He didn’t come home from _a party_ , I’d hardly call for a search squad. He’s probably holed up at one of his friend’s houses nursing a hangover.”

“No, _you don’t understand_ ,” Taeyong almost pleads. His pride is probably taking a hell of a hit. “If he was okay, he would have come back already, I _swear_.”

Ten arches an eyebrow, very tempted to point out that Taeyong’s vows hold shit value in his book, but then a wise voice reminiscent of his father’s reminds him that it _has_ been thirty years. Ten is most certainly a different person now than he was when he left, and he might as well extend Taeyong a courtesy of at least assuming he’s grown up too.

“How sure are you that he's in trouble?” Ten asks quietly.

Doyoung huffs in annoyance at his side, but Ten doesn’t look away from Taeyong’s rattled face. The man’s eyes widen, but he collects himself quickly.

“A hundred percent,” he says earnestly.

The rain patters the glass around them as Ten studies Taeyong’s face and turns it over in his head. It’s not really that much of a hard decision, come to think of it, but it _is_ tough to accept that even after all these years, even after what Taeyong did, Ten is still willing to drop everything and run to his aid.

“Well, then.” He sighs and reaches into his inner pocket, pulling out the notebook with Scotland Yard’s insignia printed into the cover. “I’ll have to put my vacation on hold.”

10

It’s an awkward trip to the Order Castle. Ten spends the entirety of it looking out the window, focusing on relearning the scenery rather than on a very nosy vampire opposite of him who looks away from him maybe twice in twenty minutes it takes them to get there.

He’s taken his time to get a shower and change clothes before they left, and the majority of that time was dedicated to prepping himself in the mirror, trying to convince himself that he can be near Taeyong without breaking out in flames or throwing a hissy fit. They dated, they broke up, they haven’t seen each other in thirty years. Perhaps, Taeyong’s missing brother is a reason enough to bury the hatchet, just like Ten buried all his hopes and dreams about Lee Taeyong when he was twenty-two.

It seemingly worked, but now, as he climbs out of the car and pointedly ignores a gloved hand Taeyong offers him, he wonders how long he can go on like this. An awkward conversation is bound to happen sooner or later, but Ten will be damned if he initiates it first. Taeyong fucked up, and it’s up to him to fix it.

It’s probably pathetic that three decades weren’t enough to prove to Ten that Taeyong doesn’t give a shit, but oh well.

“It looks sad,” Ten comments as he gazes up at the enormous white-marble castle looming over them. 

“It’s empty now,” Doyoung reasons. “It’s prettier when it’s filled with people. It was gorgeous yesterday.”

Taeyong hums under his breath but doesn’t comment, moving up the stairs, his scarlet cape flowing behind him. He looks like an overgrown bloody bat, and not for the first time Ten wonders how the hell the families manage to keep any kinds of secrets when their leaders don’t look inclined to guard them.

“You coming?” Taeyong calls out from the top of the stairs, a towering tall figure of breathtaking beauty.

Ten spits to his side and lights up a cigarette.

“Nah,” he responds.

He doesn’t stick around waiting for Taeyong’s reaction, instead turning on his heels and setting out for the backyard. It’s been a hot minute since he was here last, but the layout is still ingrained in his mind, so it doesn’t take him long to trail into the statue garden and then — to a small path leading from the back exit to the woods. Doyoung rushes after him.

“Why did you take the case?” He rumbles. “You didn’t even get to settle in.”

Ten weighs his words before voicing them.

He _could_ be half-honest and tell Doyoung that his distaste for the Order is only one of the reasons he never visits — it’s the fact that he doesn’t know what to do with himself when he’s not working that’s been keeping him away from taking a vacation. Between working as a detective, cooking potions for the Camden branch, and barely getting enough sleep, Ten let it slip away that he needs something more than just work.

He needs _someone_ — that was what’s been haunting him for a while now, but it didn’t take a genius to look at his dating history and figure out that he was unable to hold down a single man for more than a month at a time. There was one he loved consistently for twenty years, but that man chose a title over him, so yeah, you could say Ten never really learned how to love someone else.

“There’s a kid missing,” he says instead into the foggy tranquility of the morning.

“And Taeyong has enough detective buddies without recruiting you,” Doyoung reminds, like Ten doesn’t know it himself. “I didn’t even know he _knew_ you’re an investigator. I certainly didn’t tell him.”

Something bitter presses down in Ten’s throat.

“It was my childhood dream,” he murmurs.

“I didn’t know that,” Doyoung utters with a frown. “Did he?”

Ten stops in front of a David statue with his hands in the pockets of his coat and levels him with a _look_. Doyoung purses his lips and shakes his head.

“Of course,” he says bitterly. “Taeyong used to know everything.”

“Jesus Christ, Doie, are you seriously still jealous?” Ten asks incredulously. “You were, and still are, my best friend. He was… that and more.”

Doyoung shrugs, digging the pointy end of his shoe into the ground, and it’s like the years haven’t passed and he’s still Ten’s little cousin, pouting about his dad not allowing him to go out with Ten to the club. Ten sighs and pats his shoulder.

“If it means anything, you are my only best friend now,” he placates. “Taeyong is nothing.”

“That’s good to know,” Taeyong says from behind him, an unreadable mask on his face. 

The damn vampire ears must’ve caught a lot of that conversation and chose to butt in now. How on brand for him.

“Why are you sulking?” Ten arches an eyebrow. “You already knew that.”

“Well, if you’re done with this little mushy skit, I have a brother to find,” Taeyong cuts out before storming past them and leaving the garden.

Doyoung seethes something under his breath, but Ten doesn’t stick around to hear it. 

//

The search of the grounds gives Ten jack shit, because it’s been pouring down since midnight and the guards were all stationed inside. Nobody saw Donghyuck leave the premises during the party, alone or otherwise, but nobody also saw him leave _after_. During the festivities, a lot of people were running back and forth and inside and outside, and the guards paid more attention to those who _entered_ rather than to those who left. 

The ballroom looks even bigger when it’s empty, and Ten stands in the middle of it, feeling extremely small. Like an insignificant dot on a map of the world. This is why he left in the first place.

Taeyong clears his throat behind him.

Right. _That_ is also why he left.

“Nothing here,” Ten recounts, summing up his observations. “They cleaned everything up pretty quickly.”

Taeyong comes closer and shrugs, looking around.

“We at the Order take great care to preserve everybody’s privacy. These events are a breeding place for affairs,” he reminiscences. “All these empty rooms and secret passages? Anybody who’s anybody had sex there.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ten says with a sigh, jotting down a reminder in his notebook. “ _We_ did.”

There’s silence from his left. When he looks up, he sees a small smirk on Taeyong’s lips and a glint in his eyes.

“I didn’t want to bring it up,” Taeyong murmurs. 

“Why not?” Ten purses his lips. “It was fun. Your dad almost had a stroke when he saw us emerge.”

Taeyong snickers. “Yeah, we weren’t that good with secrecy.”

Their eyes meet as they both think it — they were good with literally everything else; until they weren’t anymore. Ten swallows and huffs out a breath. It was easier back in those days, he recalls, moving his eyes to a little alcove with stone roses around it that used to be their favorite place to hide during balls and dances. It looks strange, as if nobody opened the door in ages. He frowns at it, and Taeyong follows his eyes.

“Oh.” He clears his throat. “I had it boarded up when I came into power.”

It’s as funny as it’s painful. Ten rubs the beginnings of a stubble on his jaw.

“Why?”

“I guess I wanted to preserve the memories.”

 _Jesus Christ on a stick_. Ten knows he promised himself to be civil but he kinda wants to punch the man.

“You wouldn’t have to,” he murmurs, “if you cared enough to preserve _me_ by your side.”

He doesn’t wait around for an answer. He doesn’t need, or even want, to hear it. Doyoung is waiting outside, and there’s a missing boy to locate, and the ten-minute drive he will have to spend with Taeyong will come easier if he has a little breather first. 

Ten tries to chase away the ghosts of his youth when he marches past the statues and little dressing rooms that he used to sneak away into, but as he passes them, he yet hears the echoes of happy laughter.

11

“Donghyuck is pretty neat,” Ten comments as they leave the boy’s room after a rather fruitless search.

“One of his many virtues,” Taeyong assures him.

They walk down the corridor and stop near the entrance to Taeyong’s rooms — if they still are his, of course. They used to be. The door looks renovated and wider, but Ten could recognize the patterns on the walls here in his sleep. He’s sneaked into this room so many times it practically became his own.

“You don’t have to escort me everywhere, you know,” he says for the third time.

Doyoung left an hour ago, having quoted his distaste for even the thought of entering the _Sanguis_ abode. Ten suspected there was something more afoot but chose to interrogate him later, when he had a chance to actually unpack and sit down for dinner with his estranged family.

“It’s my _younger brother_ ,” Taeyong stresses. “Of course I do. Besides, you’re in my home.”

Ten grunts. “I know it well enough even thirty years later, Taeyong, and don’t worry, I’m not going to steal the china.”

Taeyong snorts and shakes his head. “You stole my virginity in this room, you can excuse me being a little precautious.”

Son of a bitch. So that’s how he wants to play it?

“ _Stealing_ something implies its owner’s reluctance to part with it,” he lectures. “If memory serves, you were more than willing to lose it. Practically grinded on me during the Order dinner.”

“Everybody was at each other’s throats,” Taeyong reminds, “they wouldn’t have cared if we went at it right there on the food.”

Ten fights it really hard, but a snort still comes out. Taeyong’s warm eyes trail over his face, and it’s unfair. It’s unfair how Ten’s heart yet yearns to flutter under his gaze. 

This man was the love of his life, but what nobody tells you in the fairytales is that when the love is over, the life still goes on.

“Hey, remember that secret wall corridor we used to sneak into?” Taeyong asks suddenly with a mischievous smirk.

Ten smiles. “Yeah, of course. The door was somewhere around here, wasn’t it?”

He looks around, trying to remember where the entrance was, but before he can react, Taeyong crowds him against the wall and presses on a panel near his eyes. The secret door opens with a soft click, and Ten almost falls in. Taeyong, of course, catches him by the waist, and all of a sudden — their faces are inches apart.

For a pleasant second, Ten wants to cross the distance; but the reality kicks in soon enough. He steps away from the wall and Taeyong and rubs his eyes. 

“We need to talk about it, don’t we?”

Taeyong licks his lips nervously and glances to the side. “If you want to.”

“I don’t,” Ten replies honestly. “But we gotta, if you want me to focus on finding your brother without getting distracted wondering if you ever regretted breaking my heart.”

“Regr— are you being serious?” Taeyong almost screams out, stepping away.

Ten’s brow furrows as he shrugs, lost and confused. “Well, did you?”

“I— Of course I did, what the hell?” Taeyong swallows and ruffles his perfect hair. “You were my everything. Literally another piece of my soul. Do you really think it didn’t hurt?” 

“Well, considering you’re flirting with me all over again, I don’t see much remorse.” Ten crosses his arms defensively. 

He’s faced psychopaths and serial killers without flinching, but _this_ is making him nervous. How splendid.

“I just…” Taeyong breathes out through his nose. His eyes flutter. “Seeing you again made me forget things, I guess. You’re still as thrilling to be around.”

Ten doesn’t stop Taeyong when his hand travels to brush over his jaw, a gesture that is so raw and familiar that it makes him ache all over. He closes his eyes.

“Well, don’t expect anything,” he murmurs. “You broke me once already. I’m not giving you a chance to do it again.”

Despite his words, he doesn’t move away, and Taeyong, ever so perceptive, takes it as a green light to move even closer. He’s taller than he used to be, _somehow_ , and when Ten opens his eyes, the pretty shape of Taeyong’s nose is right in front of him. He used to love peppering kisses all over it.

“I was young,” Taeyong whispers, “and scared. My father would never let us be together. I wanted to work something out, to stay with you _and_ not get disowned, but by the time I came to see you with a plan, you were gone.”

Ten chuckles darkly, sticky waves of pain rolling over his bleeding heart.

“You told me you were choosing your throne, man,” he mumbles. “You _knew_ I wanted to leave the city. What did you expect? That I would be your secret lover? That I would leave my dreams behind for you?” 

“I expected you to _believe in us_ ,” Taeyong says, “but you told me to stay away instead. Never contact you again. Forget you…” He laughs without humor. “Like that was ever an option.”

Succumbing to weakness just for a moment, Ten steps closer and leans his forehead on Taeyong’s shoulder. Standing against him, _with_ him, feels just like it did before, if not stronger. Taeyong’s reached his full growth and got more muscle, but the smell — _the smell is still the same_.

“I forgave you a long time ago, you know,” he whispers. “For choosing power over me.”

“Thank y—”

“But your father died ten years after I left,” Ten continues. “You have been independent for twenty years now, and in all that time, I haven’t heard from you _once_.”

Ten swallows and inhales one last time before stepping and looking Taeyong in the eye.

“Not a single call, or letter, or visit,” he says evenly. “You’ve had all your chances, and you never took them. So now, you will stand back and let me work in peace. I will find your brother, have a vacation with my family, and leave back home, and then, we can both come back to the way it was.”

Taeyong looks agitated and ready to argue, but the thing is — Ten was ready for a lot of things with him decades ago, and Taeyong didn’t want it. This time around — whatever Taeyong has to offer, _Ten_ doesn’t want it.

“Get the guest list sent to Doyoung’s house, if you would be so kind,” he requests coldly, not a trace of his heartbreak seeping into his voice. “I’ll see you at your interrogation.”

He nods sharply and walks away, once again.

12

When Ten’s belly is full of food and the list of all guests of the Order Ball is resting on the table in front of him, it’s already midday. The sun isn’t even thinking of breaking through misty clouds, and Ten looks up at them, maybe for the first time in so many years realizing why transition to England was that easy. Rosehill is a gloomy puddle of moisture and fog, with its sunny days accounting to maybe a month every year. This is one of the reasons _Sanguis_ and the rest chose it as their place of settlement centuries ago, and that is the reason Ten never felt far away from home in his small apartment in Harrow. It was never quite _the_ home, of course, despite his best efforts to make it such, but it was close enough. 

He swallows and looks down at the long and convoluted list of people in front of him. Taeyong went ahead and narrowed it down from all people in attendance to those who knew Donghyuck if even in passing, and even left little notes against those names, indicating if he’s seen someone talking to the kid. Ten traces over the neat handwriting with his fingers.

He needs to start profiling and questioning people, he decides firmly, casting all other thoughts aside. Broken heart or not, there is a life at stake, and he can’t afford to waste any more time. Vampires might be the enemies of his family, but he’s never discriminated against victims in need of his help. Stupid hero complex, his old acquiantances at his first precinct used to say. 

Diving into work is a familiar pattern that allows him an escape. Doyoung, after a little coaxing, provided him with a personal office — ironically enough, Ten’s father’s old office — and with some determination and lurking, Ten located an old cork board that would serve just perfectly for his purpose.

He starts with hanging up the pictures of the two dozen people who know Donghyuck personally. It doesn’t take long to see a pattern — all of them are leaders with their siblings and seconds, which figures, since Hyuck is second in line for the head of the family after Yuta. Speaking of the fucker — he smirks at Ten from the mugshot Ten dug up in the box of Order members pictures Doyoung supplied him with. It’s an interesting question as to why Doyoung even has that, but to each, he guesses, its own. They were quite good friends with Yuta once, but things have changed. 

After that’s done, Ten uses colored thread to distinguish between the people he knows for sure talked to or saw Hyuck last night, and then indicates their relationships with each other with sticky notes. When all is ready, Ten steps back to admire the board. It’s not much, but it will do for starters.

Just as he’s about to take his pick at the first person to interview, a dull thump of the front door flying open reaches his room on the second floor. That poor wooden door isn’t having its best day, it seems.

Ten hears the voices downstairs, recognizing Doyoung and a deep unfamiliar timbre. He stands still, training an ear to it, but before he can decide if it’s worth it to come down, the sound of running steps reaches him. He places a hand on the waist of his jacket, where a gun is hiding underneath.

There’s a rap on the door to the office, but the newcomer doesn’t bother waiting for a response before throwing it open and storming inside in all his tall and — Ten can smell it with the breeze — _werewolf_ glory.

“It’s just a parade of archenemies in here today,” Ten murmurs under his breath. “How may I help you?”

“You’re the detective searching for Donghyuck, right?” The man asks with a frown creasing his bushy eyebrows under the sandy hair.

Ten takes in his appearance — long overcoat, loosely buttoned-up shirt, dark jeans, and… neon sneakers. Lovely.

“Maybe,” he says carefully. “And you are?”

The man clears his throat and approaches him, extending a wide palm. Ten takes it carefully, shaking as fast as he can.

“Wong Yukhei, Kun’s right hand,” he introduces himself pompously.

“Kun’s already an alpha?” He asks instead of commenting on the man’s choice of tone. “He was barely a pup when I left.”

Yukhei frowns deeper, eyes running over Ten’s face before he shakes his head.

“I have information about Hyuck,” he utters, licking his lips. “I saw something last night in the woods.”

Ten’s eyebrows fly up as he offers for Yukhei to sit down on one of the many armchairs scattered around the spacy office.

“Do tell.”

When they’re seated, Yukhei leans his elbows on his knees and sniffs.

“I left the ball early,” he starts, “around ten, barely an hour in. There were some things I had to take care of, and I only went back around two in the morning.”

“What were you doing out for so long?” Ten squints.

“Things,” Yukhei responds vaguely, which doesn’t add points to his credibility. “Don’t look at me like that, I was with another person the whole time, he can vouch for my innocence.”

Ten purses his lips. “We’ll get to that later.”

Yukhei snorts. “Yeah, sure. Anyway, around one thirty we —me and my companion— were coming back to the castle when I smelled something. The rain had barely stopped like twenty minutes before that so it was faint but still recognizable. We went looking and found blood on the bushes.”

He rattles it all out quickly and concisely. Ten’s barely had time to spend with Kun when they were kids, but his father was always a strict disciplinarian, and he guesses he passed that one to his son.

“That’s not good,” Ten notes with a jerk of his chin. “Was it a lot of blood?”

“Not even enough to cause a deep wound,” Yukhei answers, following his train of thought. “More like someone cut themselves while running.”

“Did you by any chance recognize it?” 

“Not specifically,” Yukhei swallows, “but it might have been vampire blood.”

Ten breathes out sharply and leans back in his armchair, rubbing his chin.

“Would you be able to find the place you found it at?” 

“Sure, I know the woods like the back of my hand.” Yukhei shrugs. “But the rain started up again when we were back at the castle, so I doubt there’s anything left.”

“It’s not always about the physical evidence,” Ten murmurs, already standing up and buttoning his jacket. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you telling me this? Vampires and werewolves notoriously hate each other.”

Yukhei follows his lead and stands up too, a grin that is a little out of place in this context blooming on his full lips. 

“It’s a combination of things,” he says. “Kun might hate Taeyong’s guts, but he’s an honorable man, and it’s the life of another person at stake. Donghyuck’s a good kid. _And_ Taeyong came to our house an hour ago kicking up a fuss.”

Ten stills with his hands in the air. “I told him to stay back.”

“Dude,” Yukhei snorts. “It’s impossible to ever get him to do something he doesn’t want to do. And it’s his brother. Do you even know Lee Taeyong?”

“It appears that I do not,” Ten says quietly. “While we’re still here, I’ll also need to know who accompanied you that night.”

Yukhei’s face grows serious as he looks over his shoulder to see if anybody’s listening in. Ten’s curiosity spikes instantly.

“Alright, but I would like you to keep that information to yourself,” Yukhei says carefully.

“If I can allow it,” Ten responds just as cautiously. 

Yukhei clears his throat. “It’s Kim Jungwoo.”

Ten runs through the list of suspects in his mind and comes up with a match.

“The shapeshifter?” He asks, and then, more bitterly, “Sicheng’s guy?”

“I can see from the sour look on your face that you’re familiar with the guy,” Yukhei notes, not without humor.

“We used to be…” Ten searches for the best word to succinctly describe the situation. “Is _childhood frenemies_ a thing? Because if it is, that’s what we were.”

A new look appears in Yukhei’s eyes, chasing away the apprehension and letting something akin to good humor to take root.

“Taeyong mentioned you were from around here, but he didn’t say you were _that_ important,” he points out.

“Ugh.” Ten flinches. “You have no idea. Sicheng sent me a welcome-home gift last night. I’m looking forward to giving him his thank-you card.”

“Can I be there for it? I’m guessing it’s in the face-punch pool.”

“Be my guest.”

They move for the door after Ten grabs his notebook from the table, and as the long corridor takes them to the stairs, Ten runs through Jungwoo’s profile in his head.

“What were you and Jungwoo doing in the woods alone at night?”

Yukhei clears his throat. “Settling some differences.”

“In this city, it can mean everything from fighting it out to fucking it out,” Ten notes. “Which was it?”

“Neither,” Yukhei assures him, but Ten catches his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. _Sure._ “We needed to discuss something away from prying eyes, and I can assure you it had nothing to do with Donghyuck or his family.”

“Mhm.”

They reach the main hall, where James is already waiting for Ten with his raincoat. He throws it on as Yukhei fumbles with his own.

“Seriously, it was nothing unseemly,” he ensures. “And you’re probably going to be talking to Kun at some point, so I’d appreciate you not mentioning it. He has a tendency to judge unnecessarily.”

“I mean.” Ten pouts. “If there was really _just_ a conversation going on, why would you want to hide it?”

Yukhei huffs in annoyance. “Listen, I swear we were just talking.” He looks up over Ten’s shoulder, and his eyes light up. “Jeno! Here, Jeno can tell you, we ran into him right before we discovered the blood.”

Surprise makes Ten stop in his tracks. He turns to face the kid, who’s standing at the end of the hall gaping at them like he’s seen a ghost.

“Jeno?” Ten calls out. “Is this true?”

He sees the kid gulp and move closer, almost reluctantly take a step after step to approach them. He looks pale, paler even than usually. It’s worrying.

“Yes,” he whispers barely audibly.

“And you saw the blood too?” Ten demands.

Jeno only nods, swallowing again. Ten hums. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asks incredulously. “You’ve been here this morning, and we spent an entire dinner talking, and you didn’t mention a thing about _blood_ you saw in the forest?”

Being ambushed and pressured returns some of the courage to the little witch, because he straightens up and purses his lips.

“I was scared and confused,” he says in a much steadier voice. “Doyoung might not approve, but Hyuck is my school friend, and I was shocked that something might have happened to him. Besides, you know how suspicious you are of everything, I didn’t want you to think _I_ did something to him.”

“Wha-? _Jesus_.” Ten curses under his breath. “First of all, your brother might be a hardass that half this city has a grudge on but he would _never_ begrudge you anything, including but not limited to being friends with a vampire kid. Second of all, I’m not suspecting _anybody_ yet, let alone a child.”

“I’m thirty-two,” Jeno exclaims, fixing his glasses and pouting.

Ten rolls his eyes. “Sure, which makes you around sixteen in witch terms. I’ll talk more to you later. For now, tell Doyoung I’ve headed out to the forest.”

He leaves without another word, only briefly checking that Yukhei’s following him. It’s bothering him — that Jeno didn’t mention such a crucial detail. Fear and shock aside, he had several hours to say something, but he was a polite and quiet boy during dinner. It’s unsettling and unfamiliar — because suddenly, Rosehill seems much less like a hometown he remembers, riddled with open secrets and everybody jumping over themselves to share juicy details about everything they know, and more like the gloomy, unkind city Ten spent the last thirty years in.

No place like home, truly.

13

When Ten climbs out of Yukhei’s car, he sees a familiar face at the edge of the forest, hands in the pocket of his ruby cloak. Ten sighs.

“I miss the times I arrived places and you weren’t there,” he says as he walks up to the opening to the woods.

“At least you admit you miss _something_ about me,” Taeyong notes, as if their conversation just a few hours ago didn’t happen. “I’m here to see the doggie behind you.”

Yukhei catches up to them and measures Taeyong with a glare.

“Your brother’s missing, and _this_ is what you dedicate time to?” He arches an eyebrow. “Rivalries? What are you even doing here?”

“I’m here to ask you why you didn’t tell me shit about the blood you saw in the forest last night.”

“Jesus,” Ten breathes out. “What happened to confidentiality of a police case?”

“You’re not on duty,” Taeyong reminds without even looking at him, still glaring at Yukhei. “Well?”

Yukhei squares his shoulders defensively. “Who even told you?”

“I did.”

Ten looks toward the people walking out of the forest and barely holds in a curse. Sicheng notices his reaction and smirks.

“Yongqin!” He calls out cheerily. “Long time no see. Give your old bestie a hug.”

He reaches forward to touch his shoulders, but Ten puts a palm out, spreading it over Sicheng’s chest and keeping him away with a flinch.

“I would, but I wasted all my physical affection efforts on that gift you sent yesterday,” he says coldly. “Really, Winnie? A hooker? You used to have more class.”

Sicheng clicks his tongue and spreads his hands fake-apologetically. 

“You gave me too short of a deadline, I didn’t have time to get creative.” He smiles devilishly, and it looks just like when they were kids, only now there’s more sinister power to it. “Did you like him? I made sure to select your type.”

Nobody in the present company misses the look he sends Taeyong’s way. Ten grinds his teeth so hard they squeak. 

“Knowing you sent him gave me enough wisdom to send him away,” he responds. “What was it? Gonorrhea? Chlamydia? Herpes?”

Sicheng cackles. “Nah, I’m not that cruel. Just some scabies.”

Ten groans in disgust. Then, he shakes his head to get back in the game.

“Anyway, what are you doing here?”

The man by his side takes this as his cue to approach and hold out a gloved hand. Ten takes in the masterfully ruffled dark hair, wide brown eyes, and angelic dimples and makes a decision not to trust him just yet.

“Jeong Jaehyun,” the man introduces himself in a honeyed voice. “The leader of sirens.”

“Ah.” Ten hums, placing him on his mental board of suspects. Yes, definitely don’t trust him. “It’s a pleasure. I’m Ten.”

“I know, yes,” Jaehyun says with a smile aimed at Taeyong. He gestures to Sicheng. “The dickhead here came an hour ago to inform me that one of his people, Jungwoo, saw something in the woods yesterday, and seeing as that is my territory, I thought it appropriate that I accompany you.”

“Fair enough,” Ten breathes out, even though he would really like for all these people to leave him alone and let him work in peace. “Hang back after, I’ll need to talk to you.”

Jaehyun inclines his head. “I have a business meeting with your brother later, so we’ll have enough time to talk.”

Cooperative, then. Not always a good thing. Ten turns to Sicheng.

“Where’s Kim Jungwoo?”

Sicheng clears his throat, sending a death glare Yukhei’s way. “Preoccupied.”

Taeyong sighs loudly. “If you’re done fraternizing, can we get on with this? I have a brother to find.”

“No, actually,” Ten snaps, turning to him fully. “ _I_ am finding your brother. _You_ are getting in my way.”

“If you think I’m just going to go take a nap while my Donghyuck is hell knows where, you’re gravely mistaken,” Taeyong shoots back, barging in on Ten’s personal space. “I can _feel_ that he’s still alive, but that can change any minute, so I would _really_ appreciate it if you got _moving_.”

Oh, how much Ten wants to snap back at him, to tell him exactly how little Ten gives a shit about his opinion, and how much he would like this little bloodsucking asshole to fuck off to where he came from— but he can’t. There’s a grain of truth in the acid falling from Taeyong’s tongue, and that is that the clock is ticking. 

He bites back an insult and turns on his heels, marching into the forest. Giving Taeyong a piece of his mind, _again_ , can wait. For now, Ten has a job to do.

14

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that the search of the woods turns up nothing but wet leaves and damp ground, but Ten still can’t break his mind out of throes of disappointment when he arrives back at the _Anathe_ mansion. Jaehyun trails behind him, but Ten can’t concentrate enough to start asking him questions. 

James meets them inside and takes their coats to then lead Jaehyun to the dining room. Ten stays in the hall, looking up at the wide birth of the wooden alcove of the roof and allowing his memory run wild for a moment. He grew up in this house, although it was bigger back then. It’s emptier now, with only one family sharing it, as opposed to two brothers with their families roaming these halls as it used to be. 

Ten’s parents used to occupy the west wing, and every time he approaches the house, his eyes get drawn to it, now dark and empty. An eternal shrine to the branch of the family that evaporated when Ten’s parents died, leaving only one heir behind who left the city to look for his own destiny. 

He should visit it, he reckons, but an invisible tight rope around his throat holds him back. He knows he’s bound to end up there at some point, but for now, he’s not ready to face the dusty rooms and covered furniture. And especially the portraits. _God_ , how he hated to sit for those.

“Ten?” 

Ten blinks out of his reverie and looks up at the Doyoung at the top of the stairs. For a moment, caught in the memories of the past long gone, he doesn’t see a strong family leader up there — he sees a skinny boy in an oversized shirt puffing up under his striped suspenders. 

“Hey,” he calls out. “Jaehyun’s waiting for you in the dining room.”

“Oh, yes.” Doyoung runs down the stairs and stops before him. “You should join us for lunch.”

“I need to work,” Ten says apologetically, “and I thought it was supposed to be a business meeting.”

“You can still sit for it,” Doyoung insists. “I have no company secrets from you, and it would catch you up.”

Ten frowns. “Why would I need that? I’m leaving again in a month.”

“I just thought…” A crease forms between Doie’s eyebrows. “Full disclosure, I was hoping you were finally coming back for good.”

Shit. Ten’s stomach drops as he wets his lips.

“Doie, listen, I…” He huffs. “I came for a visit. Nothing more. And well, now, to apparently find a rogue vampire heir.”

He tries for it to come out as a joke, but Doyoung only frowns deeper.

“Ten…” His voice drops. “Just this one meeting. I’ve barely seen you since you arrived, I want to get more time with you. Maybe, it’ll change your—”

“It won’t,” Ten says firmly, and even though some part of him knows he’s lying, he still needs to stand his ground. “And the time is running out, I need to find Donghyuck.”

“For heaven’s sake, Ten, it’s just a vampire kid!” Doyoung exclaims, throwing his hands up. “He’s Yuta’s brother, so he’s probably sleeping off a hangover at one of his many friend’s and he’ll be back home in time for a night snack.”

Tens steps away, appalled and conflicted.

“Listen, I know you hate vampires, but it’s a kid’s life at stake here,” he reminds. “What happened to you? You used to be friends with them, Yuta and Taeyong included.”

He can see the anger flash in the magical purple in Doyoung’s eyes.

“I don’t give a shit about vampires,” he hisses. “I hate _Lee Taeyong_ , and he just happens to be one.”

Ten chuckles. “I appreciate the solidarity, but what has Taeyong ever done to you?”

Doyoung shakes his head, looking at Ten like he just said the dumbest thing ever.

“He…” He takes a shaky breath. “He ran you out of town.”

Oh. Ten feels cold.

“Doie, he…” He rubs his eyes, speaking quietly. “He didn’t, though. If anything, he set me free. I was always going to leave. To be frank with you, he was the only thing still holding me here.”

When he expects this to relieve Doyoung of his grudge, all it does is bring a wave of pain rolling over his face, so wise but still so young. He presses his lips together so hard they whiten.

“The only thing?” He whispers, and when Ten steps closer, he’s terrified to see glistening moisture on Doyoung’s eyelashes. “So he was the only person you thought was worth sticking around for, huh? What about your younger cousin, eh? What about the _kid_ who was forced to take on not one but _two_ families who were practically coming apart at the seams because the guy who was supposed to be there to help and support him went away and chased his own dreams? What about _my dreams_ , Ten?”

Ten tries to say something but not a word comes out, and it’s probably for the best, because Doyoung isn’t done talking, judging by his red face and shaking hands.

“Have you ever _once_ in your _selfish_ fucking life thought about how it was for me?” He seethes. “To watch my uncle die, then my only fucking friend in this family disappear into the wind, and then watch _my_ dad die and leave me with a huge corporation and a clan worth of people in need of guidance? I was twenty years old, Yongqin, and it nearly killed me to get the family out of the gutter it was falling into, but here I fucking am, not complaining but doing my fucking job. And what about Jeno? The kid was _two_ when you left, for heaven’s sake, and he idolizes you, and do you think I ever once dispelled those fantasies of his about his cool British uncle? No. And have you talked to him today _at all_ except for this fucking _case_? No!

“For thirty years, I had to listen to you go on and on about how it was better for you over there, so now, _you_ can suck it up and have _one_ business dinner with me, or so help me God, I will drag you on that midnight train myself and send your ass back to where you came from.”

He doesn’t give Ten time to apologize or even gather his thoughts, storming past him and into the dining room. Ten stays there, frozen to the ground and staring at the carved spot in the wooden staircase railing, a single phrase that Doie and he knifed into there what seems like an eternity ago. Feelings sweep over him — realization, guilt, resentment, remorse, and underneath it all — sadness. This rant of his was the longest speech Ten’s ever gotten out of Doyoung. Doie was never the talker, he was more of a leader — which is why Ten never really thought about the cost it came at.

Ten wipes at his face and shakes it, snapping back into focus. Then, he turns to the right and makes his way into the diner room.

//

Pressed down by his guilt and some deal of vengeful anger — because now that the conversation is done, Ten can think of twenty appropriate responses, but who needs them now? — Ten spends the entirety of dinner politely interested and engaged in the conversation. He lets Doyoung and Jaehyun settle their business matters before joining their discussion of latest town gossip, which, however boring he thought it would be, he eventually finds quite amusing. 

“And okay, did you hear?” Doyoung perks up, his dinner done before him and a second glass of wine tilted dangerously in his loose wrist. “Someone started a rumor that I requested to host the Order Ball here next year.”

“Yeah, I heard that,” Jaehyun says with a frowning smile. “What the hell? It’s not true, is it?”

Doyoung sputters. “Of course not! Who do you think I am?”

“I mean,” Ten speaks up, “to be fair, dear cousin, you do have a flair for the dramatics.”

With a huff, Doyoung looks over to him, squinting his eyes a little as if he’s assessing Ten and his behavior. There’s no animosity on his face, but it isn’t as open and kind as it usually is, too, so Ten guesses there’s some road to forgiveness left for him to crawl.

“It runs in the family,” Doyoung says eventually with a diva-like shrug. “But anyway, I confronted Sicheng about it last night, but he swore he wasn’t the one to start it.”

“And you believed him?” Jaehyun asks with a snort.

“Of course not,” Doyoung huffs. “But also I don’t really remember what he said exactly. The punch last night _really_ had a kick to it.”

Ten perks up as subtly as he can, sensing something, at the same time Jaehyun frowns at him.

“Really?” He asks thoughtfully. “I heard that someone spiked the human punch with LSD. Are you sure you didn’t drink _that_ one?”

“I might have.” Doyoung’s brow creases. “Taeyong was on my case for half an hour about some deal he had going, and I was rattled enough to confuse the bowls.”

Ten clears his throat and wonders if this is a good time to jump back into the hay, but then again — when has _he_ ever had long-lasting self-preservation instincts? The scare Doyoung gave him has worn off already.

“Does that sort of thing happen often?” He asks carefully. “The punch-spiking?”

Doyoung hums in thought. “If shapeshifters are in attendance? _Something_ always happens.”

He rolls his eyes and finishes his wine before pouring himself another. The candlelight of the dining room is scarce — on purpose, probably — and it casts an antique-ish yellow glow around the room and the long table they’re occupying. It used to be filled with people, Ten recalls, and he wonders why they’re not here now for the dinner.

“Actually,” Jaehyun clears his throat. “This time, I don’t think it was the shapeshifters.”

“What do you mean?” Ten asks, eager to get as much information out of him without making Doyoung think he’s sacrificing family time for case details.

Jaehyun grunts and straightens a napkin on his lap to avoid meeting their eyes.

“I wasn’t going to say anything to you, Doie,” he starts with a frown. “But I overheard something last night between Donghyuck and Jeno that might shed light on the punch issue.”

Doyoung’s eyebrows threaten to melt with his hairline as he nearly chokes on his drink. Ten recalls Jeno’s words about being friends with Hyuck and now, as his cousin’s face goes red, he realizes why Jeno was so reluctant to bring it up before Doyoung or anyone at all. 

_Doesn’t hate vampires my ass. Fix your attitude, little brother._

“Well,” Doyoung says after having a coughing fit. He gestures with his hand in an inviting manner. “Do tell.”

15

_the night of the ball._

Jaehyun finishes his second cigarette, but the yard leading up to the forest is still empty. He glances at the clock and watches with dread how the time of the performance tick-tocks into the reality and fades away. He trusts Xiaojun to inform everybody that there’s going to be a delay, but it’s such a moveton action, honestly. Sirens already have a fickle reputation, and the last thing he wants is being branded as tardy.

Neither Johnny nor Mark appear on the horizon in the next ten minutes, and in his anxiousness, Jaehyun paces the balcony, starting his third cigarette. He looks back into the ballroom and sees Sicheng dance away with all the mirth and joy of a man without consciousness, as if he isn’t at fault now, as if he isn’t the reason Johnny and Mark’s relationship — a thing they’ve been so carefully dancing around for years now — might be ruined forever. Jaehyun shakes his head in anger, but not just at Sicheng; at himself, too. If he hadn’t kissed Sicheng back, none of this would’ve—

“Doyoung will kill me!”

“Doyoung will _never know_.”

Jaehyun jerks his head to the side, searching for the voices in the dark. The balcony is small and hidden in an alcove, so when he leans over it to check who’s talking downstairs, he knows he won’t be seen. Squinting in the dark, he recognizes Donghyuck’s tell-tale rainbow hair, now painted orange with the light falling from the inside the castle. The boy he’s talking to — Jeno, Jaehyun realizes when the kid looks up at the sky wistfully — is practically sitting on a rose bush in his attempt to stay hidden from the view of the driveway.

“Are you seriously chickening out now?” Hyuck insists, touching Jeno’s bicep. “We’ve talked this over. We’ve _been_ talking it over for months.”

“I know, I know,” Jeno whispers urgently. “It’s just… I’m afraid to do this to Doie, okay? He deserves better.”

Hyuck yelps and throws his hands up in the air. “It’s not like we’re killing someone!”

“Lower your voice,” Jeno hisses at him. “You never know who’s listening.”

Jaehyun nods in agreement. The kid has a point.

“It’s not like it’s for a long time,” Donghyuck says, quieter this time. 

Jeno sighs heavily and reaches out to put his hand on Donghyuck’s forearm, tugging at it in a motion Jaehyun can’t understand — and doesn’t have time to. Finally, after two hours of waiting, he spots Johnny and Mark appearing on the horizon, hand in hand and looking happy from what he can see. A great mountain of guilty pressure lifts off of Jaehyun’s shoulders, and he pushes away from the railing to put his cigarette out and run downstairs.

16

“I see,” Ten hums, making his best to commit it to memory so he can put it in his notebook later and keep it hidden in his pocket for now at the risk of Doyoung getting mad at him again.

The man, however, doesn’t seem that focused on Ten.

“Are you sure they were talking about spiking the punch?” He asks Jaehyun, a concerningly deep frown etched into his forehead. “Did they specifically mention it?”

“No,” Jaehyun says carefully. “But at the time, I thought they were just considering pulling a prank, and with how afraid Jeno is of your disapproval, it made sense that he was squirming.”

“And that little spawn of Satan was goading him into it,” Doyoung growls, the glass shaking in his fingers from the force of him gripping it.

“That _little spawn of Satan_ is missing right now,” Ten contradicts, discarding his own reservations to remind Doyoung a life is still a life, no matter who it belongs to. “And in light of that, I think there’s something more to that conversation than just spiked punch.”

Doyoung pokes his cheek with his tongue, the seeds of anger taking root in his expressive eyes. Ten holds his gaze, unwilling to step down on this. They may have their differences right now, but this is something he will never compromise on. He doesn’t want to stay in a fight with his brother, yet he will have to fix it at a later date. If there’s something left to fix.

He turns to Jaehyun. “Did you hear anything else?”

“No.” Jaehyun licks his lips. “I saw Johnny and Mark coming back to the castle and came to see them, seeing as I was on the balcony in the first place to wait for them.”

“Why were they in the forest?” Ten frowns.

Jaehyun opens his mouth to respond but then closes it unsurely, a worried shadow passing his face.

“They had an argument, I suppose,” he says eventually, twisting a napkin between his fingers. “And Mark ran away. Johnny went after him to fix it.”

Just as if he was summoned, Mark himself enters the dining room with a cheery and blissed face, greeting everybody in a jolly tone and plopping down on his seat next to Ten. While James sets his plate, he busies himself with napkins, unaware of three pairs of eyes on him. Finally, it seems to register, as he looks up. The smile falls from his face.

“What?” He asks breathlessly. “Is there something on my face?”

“Yes, you clearly got laid,” Doyoung deadpans, ignoring Mark choking on his own saliva. “But actually, Ten has a few questions to ask you about last night.”

Ten jerks his head to look at Doyoung in surprise, taken aback at his sudden support for Ten’s work. Doyoung, ever the grudge-holder, doesn’t meet his eyes but makes a dismissive gesture with his wrist, urging Ten to proceed with it since it’s already started. Ten clears his throat.

“What happened between Johnny and you last night?” He asks as friendly as he can.

Mark’s eyes grow even wider — Ten didn’t think it was possible — as he struggles to work out any words to say. He glances at Jaehyun, who’s pointedly staring into his glaringly empty plate.

“We…” Mark starts weakly, but then clears his throat and continues more confidently. “We had a fight, I left, Johnny found me again, we resolved it, and then we went back to the ball.”

“We’ve heard all of that already,” Doyoung says, a little annoyed. “Care to go more into detail?”

“I don’t see why I should,” Mark argues, raising his chin in a challenge.

“It pertains to the missing kid case,” Ten explains. “So please. Spare no detail. I need to set the scene for last night.”

Mark meets his eyes, and in the glint of his own, Ten sees a kid he used to know before everything went to shit. A joyful, curious, funny little boy who was never seen without a book and loved to tail his big brothers around the mansion and beyond, _especially_ beyond, that little surprisingly adventurous bookworm. 

“Alright,” Mark says with a sigh. “So you know how sirens performed last night, right? Before it started, I wanted to wish Johnny good luck, and well, I wanted to see him, since he was my date and the whole performance thing took him away for three hours. It was around eleven, I think. I went to the dressing rooms and was about to knock when I realized the door was cracked open. I wanted to still make my presence known, but then I heard something that tempted me to look inside, and well… I saw Johnny kissing someone.”

Ten leans away with an inaudible gasp at the same time Jaehyun clears his throat. Mark glances at him and shakes his head.

“I should mention that someone was Jaehyunnie,” he says a little devilishly. 

Now _Doyoung_ gasps, and _very_ audibly, glaring at Jaehyun scandalously.

“You made out with Markie’s boyfriend?!”

“No!” Jaehyun exclaims. “And they weren’t dating at the time, _not that it matters!_ He’s practically my brother, I would never!”

Mark giggles like a kid and pats his shoulder. “Don’t attack him. As I found out later, he _thought_ that he was kissing _Sicheng_.”

“Why did you think it was Johnny?” Ten asks.

“Why were you kissing Sicheng?” Doyoung asks at the same time.

They look at each other, and Ten shakes his head. “Ignore me, answer his.”

“It’s none of your business,” Jaehyun seethes, the tips of his ears reddening. “That sick idiot turned into Johnny during the kiss, and that’s how Mark saw us.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t that pleasant,” Mark relays with a flinch. “Anyway, I freaked out and ran.”

“I heard him gasp and opened my eyes,” Jaehyun supplies, “which was when I saw Sicheng with a new face and pushed him away. Johnny, the real one, came in like two seconds later, and as soon as I realized what happened, I told him and sent him after Mark.”

“I see,” Ten says before turning to Mark. “Did Johnny find you?”

Mark goes suddenly timid, looking down and biting his lip, a blush quickly spreading on his face. Ten almost feels giddy on his behalf.

“Oh,” Mark whispers. “He found me alright.”

17

_the night of the ball._

The branches hit Mark’s face and slash his skin, but he doesn’t stop running, _can’t stop_ , not when what he saw seems to be chasing after him through the forest like a dark demon of regret, and anger, and… and… and stupidity!

Mark stops in his tracks in the middle of the woods and hits a tree with an open palm. It hurts way too much for him to handle without a flinch, so he hisses through his teeth as he nurses the palm against his chest.

“Fucking idiot,” he whispers angrily to himself, voice wobbly. “Of course he doesn’t like you like that.”

The tears that started when he ran out of the castle aren’t thinking of ceasing. He wipes at them angrily, smudging dirt and salty water across the makeup he so _foolishly_ put on before coming to the ball. And to think it took him three hours to get ready, just because he wanted to impress an idiot that flirts with everything that looks at him sideways and makes out with his friends in dressings rooms.

“Mark?”

He jerks around and squints into the darkness, distinguishing a tall, unmistakable form a few hundred yards away. His heart jumps to his throat as he looks around to find a hiding spot, but it’s too late — Johnny notices him too and speeds up toward him.

“Oh, thank heavens,” he breathes out, coming to a halt near Mark and trying to touch his shoulder.

Mark steps away, shaking his head with lips pressed tightly together lest any sobs escape. He sniffs and squares his shoulders.

“Mark, I _swear_ it wasn’t what you thought,” Johnny starts.

“Oh, really?” Mark can’t help but yell out. He clears his throat and tries to control his breathing. “I think it was perfectly clear.”

Johnny’s jaw stands out. “Do you think if it was clear I would come after you?”

“Well, of course you came after me,” Mark snaps. “You can’t _bear_ for someone to think you stood them up, you have a reputation to uphold.”

Johnny’s eyes widen as he stares at Mark incredulously. Steam comes from his mouth as he chuckles into the cold.

“Wow, I knew you had a mean streak, but this is something new,” he notes. “But it _does_ make you more attractive, I can’t lie.”

Blood rushes to Mark’s cheeks as he looks down on the ground, hiding his eyes and sniffing loudly. How dare he?

“Just leave me alone,” he murmurs, “and go back to making out with your dude.”

“Well.” Johnny chuckles again and steps a little closer, bending his knees to get their eyes on one level. “I _was_ hoping that’s how the night would end, but _my dude_ is currently being very pissed at me because he thought he saw me kissing someone when really, it was _Sicheng_ just being Sicheng and playing his mind games.”

Mark looks up with a gasp dying on his lips and meets Johnny’s joyful eyes.

“You weren’t kissing Jaehyun?” He asks, not even sorry he’s believing _a siren_ that quickly.

“Gods, Mark, of course not,” Johnny says with a huff.

“Oh.” Mark sniffs. “That’s… That’s good.”

“It is.”

Driven by sudden courage, Mark straightens up and raises his chin.

“Yes, because you’re supposed to be kissing _me_.”

Johnny’s lips stretch in a goofy smile, his hands reaching out to take Mark’s palm away from his chest and cradle it between his own.

“Is that so?” He asks, almost purring. 

Unable to form coherent words because _Johnny Suh is holding his damn hand,_ Mark nods rapidly. Johnny mirrors it and closes the last of the distance between them, bringing Mark’s palm to his lips and gently kissing the red injured skin.

“Good that you know that,” he whispers when he’s done. “Because I don’t think I can stay away any longer.”

The time stops the second Johnny hooks Mark’s chin with his fingers and brings his face up, just enough for their lips to meet. It happens gently at first, slowly, as if he’s scared Mark will run away again; but Mark is done running, and Mark is done waiting. 

With an impressive amount of courage, Mark takes his palm away from Johnny and wraps his arms around Johnny’s shoulders, tugging him closer and deepening the kiss. Johnny laughs into it but complies, opening his lips and sweeping Mark off his feet.

Distantly, Mark thinks about sending Dong Sicheng a fruit basket.

//

“We should head back,” Johnny whispers.

Mark, dazed and kissed, refuses with a sharp noise. Johnny laughs and pecks his swollen lips before reaching behind him to take Mark’s hands off and intertwine their fingers.

“I need to perform,” he reminds in a whisper. “And you need to look at me from the audience and fluster me with how cute you look.”

“Well, I can do _that_ ,” Mark murmurs, blinking the haze of finally kissing his crush away. “But like, one last kiss?”

Johnny obliges without a word, and Mark successfully manages to distract him for another few minutes, before they hear the clock somewhere far away strike one and realize the performance can’t be _that_ late. Mark sighs in content as Johnny trails his jaw with more kisses before taking his hand and leading him away, back to the edge of the forest and into the real world.

They’re a couple minutes away from the castle when Johnny stops in his tracks, almost making Mark stumble and fall.

“Do you hear that?” He whispers, eyes trained somewhere between the trees.

At first, Mark wants to say he only hears the lake nearby and night birds, but the longer they stand in silence, the more Mark realizes Johnny’s right — it’s voices.

“We should just get rid of it,” comes from beyond the woods, and it sounds like someone is walking in parallel with them.

Mark frowns up at Johnny as he recognizes the voice, and Johnny does too — it’s Yukhei’s unmistakable deep drawl; but he doesn’t have time to react, because when his companion speaks up, Mark almost loses his shit.

“And tell Taeyong what?” Jungwoo snaps. “That we forgot to mention it? He’d crucify us there and then.”

“Well, I don’t know what you want me to do!” Yukhei yells.

_“I want you to lower your voice.”_

“Sorry.” He clears his throat and continues more quietly. “Listen, the point is, now that we _know_ , we have to do something, or one of us will get our ass handed to us when somebody finds out.”

“Oh, Demeter, help me,” Jungwoo sighs like a martyr. “I know you’re hot, Yukhei, but you don’t have to play dumb, I _know_ there’s a brain in that wolfie head of yours.”

“You suck at metaphors,” Yukhei deadpans. “What do you propose?”

“We just say nothing,” Jungwoo says matter-of-factly. “If anybody asks, we didn’t see anything. Sicheng will probably want to take credit, anyway.”

“Why?”

“Anything to piss people off.”

“I can see where he gets that.”

“Oh, shut up now.”

They become quieter the more they move deeper into the forest. Mark can’t stop frowning, trying to decipher the meaning of it all, but Johnny just shakes his head with a sigh.

“Anything that a shapeshifter and a werewolf are cooking up together,” he says, “is better left alone.”

Mark has to admit he’s not wrong. With a last look behind himself into the beckoning blackness of the woods, he follows Johnny back into the castle.

//

“And you failed to mention that?” Ten almost screeches. “It sounds like they were talking about a dead body or something.”

Mark goes visibly pale. “I _highly_ doubt that, Ten.”

“He’s right,” Doyoung speaks up. “It’s one thing to stir up trouble but it’s another to stay silent about a possible dead body.”

“We spent several hours with Yukhei today,” Jaehyun recalls. “He would’ve said anything, and besides, even if he was lying, I know him. Kun raises them to be polite and virtuous. Jungwoo might be able to pull it off, but Yukhei wouldn’t look that carefree if he had a guilty conscience.”

Ten purses his lips, ready to throw several dozen examples at them about how being a nice person doesn’t always mean you can’t lie like you were raised in a family of lawyers. He’s witnessed way too many sweet smiley serial killers in his lifetime to be this easily swayed by an open face and Yukhei’s hearty laugh.

“We’ve known them for years, Ten,” Doyoung reminds, as if reading his mind. His eyes are hooded as he hides his face behind a wine glass. “You’ve known him for a day.”

Ten sucks in his lips, conceding. He can’t just throw away his suspicions, but he knows better than to throw them around at a dinner table. He nods curtly and clears his throat.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he says sweetly. “I would like to retire.”

He doesn’t even realize when the old habit of looking at the head of the family for permission to be dismissed came back but here he is — waiting for Doyoung’s short nod before leaving his place at the table.

“Before I bid you goodnight,” he says, hands on the back of his chair. “Is there a way for me to get every person of interest in one place?”

Jaehyun perks up. “It’s Sunday tomorrow. Everybody will be at church!”

“Ew,” Ten grunts, “you still do that?”

“Tradition,” Doyoung emphasizes. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I understand,” Ten says darkly. “I just don’t approve.”

“Oh, I know.”

“ _Please_ ,” Mark says a little loudly. “Do not.”

Doyoung’s nostrils flare with spite but he doesn’t continue, instead gulping down his entire goblet. The only reason Ten doesn’t make a joke about it and all the wine he’s consumed today is Mark’s warning glare. He sighs and rolls his eyes.

“When does the service start?”

“Ten,” Jaehyun supplies with a smile. “Reception starts at eleven and continues for a few hours.”

“I will see you all at twelve, then,” Ten informs with a smile. “Goodnight.” 

He salutes before turning on his heels and leaving the room to storm up the stairs and into his own chambers. The cork board stares at him with almost two dozen different faces, all different and unique but somehow alike in that superior haughty look in their eyes.

Ten’s gaze zeroes in on the vampire leader, the picture he chose for him glistening with that particular Polaroid glint. Taeyong is young there, younger even than when he was when Ten left. Ten has an identical one, only smaller, in his wallet. Has had it for thirty years and could never bring himself to throw out.

“There’s something more here,” he murmurs to himself before approaching the board and tapping Taeyong’s face on it. “What is it, angel? What are you hiding from me?”

Taeyong, with his signature mysterious smile, stays silent.

18

Despite the overall energy of the town staying stagnant and absolutely identical to what it was when Ten was a kid, a lot, still, have changed within it and on its streets. He saw it when he was driving to his hotel and out of it in the morning but he put off exploring and relearning the bricks and walls of his childhood home for another day, when maybe he could rope Doyoung into showing him around.

When he wakes up the next day, the entire family is already gone. James informs him that they had some work to do — to which Ten scoffed skeptically, because seriously, on a Sunday? — before church; so a little relieved that he doesn’t have to face Doyoung and a potential conversation he’s not yet ready for, Ten gets his best coat on and sets out to see what Rosehill can offer him now that he’s returned as a new person.

It takes him around twenty minutes to get tired of walking once he’s out of the residential area. The downtown of Rosehill isn’t what you would expect of a town this size — it’s not exploding with colors of beckoning shops and casinos, but it’s also not cold and dark like something this full of supernatural secrets has potential to be. No, it’s absolutely ordinary, homey even — a fact that unsettles Ten as much as warms him. He can almost remember being a teenager and running into the candy shop to load up on sugar that his entire personality seemed to have been functioning on, and from there — to the small bookshop hidden and tucked between two tall buildings, in search of books his father said he was yet too young to be studying. It turned out in the end that his true personality shone more on sugarless tea and those books never came in handy since he gave up on his heritage, but back then, he didn’t know that, nor did he care. He was young and carefree, and he was in love with life and a kind boy who liked his antiques and warming his hands even though his own never stopped being cold.

Ten stands here now, before the same candy shop, and watches through the pink glass how new kids load up on sugar and laugh soundlessly at something one of them says with an obnoxious flick of a wrist. He’s almost tempted to walk inside and listen in, but just as the reminder of childhood came, so did the memory of why he left — not feeling like he belonged.

He turns on his heels and stalks down the street, swerving out of the way of a bicyclist and barely avoiding stepping into the puddle. With a sigh, Ten looks around for a place to hide in and warm up to sort through his notes and set up an interrogation schedule and some short profiles of suspects before cornering them later at church.

Among foggy windows and rushing cars, he sees it — a small tea shop on the corner, calling out to him with a minimalistic sign and a cheesy slogan slapped onto the window overlooking the street. Ten rushes toward it before he can change his mind. He’s had enough of reminiscing, and he needs to actually get to work.

Inside, it’s even nicer, what with the pastel-colored design and comfy chairs in booths that are semi-open but still provide enough privacy to feel like you’re the only one here. As he takes his place, he tries to recall if this teashop was here the last time, but nothing comes when he beckons it from memory; and maybe, that’s good — in this town, people never quit their jobs, and he would rather nobody recognize him here. It’s a long shot, but rumor travels fast, and faster does the malicious one. He doesn’t need anybody asking questions about Lee Yongqin turning up downtown looking exactly like he did thirty years ago — and he’s _really_ not in the mood to pretend to be his own son.

The time seems to stop as he orders his mint tea and dives into his notes. The muffled sounds of a rather busy teashop pass in and out of his mind as the images of the case fly before his eyes. There’s something he's missing, he knows that much, and it’s not even because he barely questioned anyone; no, it’s something else, a gut feeling that even if he scorches this town to the ground and sniffs in every corner, there will yet be a detail he hasn’t seen or found. Maybe not on his own but because someone is purposely hiding it.

“This shop suits you.”

Ten looks up with a blink at the familiar voice before a scowl forces itself on his face.

“What are you doing here?” He asks as coldly as he can master. “Aren’t you supposed to be at church?”

“In an hour,” Taeyong replies, fixing his gloves. “Mind if I join you?”

He looks heavenly, in a white blouse and high-waist riding pants, his velvet cloak hugging his body in descending maroon waves. He looks so out of place and anachronistic in here it’s ridiculous, but nobody seems to be paying attention to it. Either they’re too used to this or Ten tends to give Taeyong too much significance in his mind — he doesn't know.

“I have a feeling I can’t stop you,” Ten murmurs.

With an agreeing hum, Taeyong lowers himself on the seat across the table, gracefully as if he’s ascending from heavens onto the sinful earth. Ten honestly cannot stand him, but he also can’t _not_ pay attention.

“Went horseback riding as a breakfast treat?” He asks, gesturing to Taeyong’s attire with his pen. “With a king?”

Taeyong lets out a chiming laugh, that charming meretricious sound he reserves for strangers and prey. Ten knows he asked for it, but it still bugs him that Taeyong is using that on him for probably the first time in their lives.

“No, just took a stroll,” Taeyong says softly. “Saw you in the window, wanted to check up on you and your progress.”

Ten regards him with a squint, calling bullshit almost immediately. Taeyong looks way too innocent for his words to be true, and Ten would know — he taught him that trick.

“It’s confidential,” he tries.

“It’s my brother,” Tayeong points out. “And I _asked_ you to do this.”

Ten chews on his lower lip, torn between telling him everything and asking him to fuck off. The entirety of yesterday is still fresh on his mind, and it’s hard to disengage from what he _knows_ about Taeyong and what he _feels_ about him. In their lives, thirty years don’t mean as much as they do to a human, and Ten feels like they only said goodbye last week. Taeyong only chose power over him last week.

“You said you can feel Hyuck’s alive,” he says instead of voicing the mess in his mind. “How?”

A shadow of sincerity passes over Taeyong’s careful polite mask. He swallows and plays with a napkin on the table. The waitress arrives with the tea he apparently ordered for himself, and Ten almost laughs at how ridiculous it is for a vampire to do that. The habit of pretending, it seems, is really ingrained into the man.

“Just like I knew _you_ were alive all these years,” Taeyong murmurs.

“Doyoung told you?” Ten bites out, because he _knows_ where this is going, and he doesn’t need that, he doesn’t fucking need that. Not right now, not ever.

“Funny.” Taeyong purses his lips. “No. I just… feel the people I love.”

Ten sighs as his eyes fall close in exhaustion that is more than just about not getting a good night’s sleep. He leans back in his seat and looks anywhere but at Taeyong.

“Well, I guess that explains why you never wrote to check for yourself,” he murmurs, unable and unwilling to hold it back.

Taeyong’s fingers flex around the teacup, his lips pressed thinly together. He raises his chin and goes to say something — but doesn’t get to. The door to the tea shop opens with a chime of the bell, and Ten, more on instinct, looks over at the newcomer.

“You gotta be kidding me,” he murmurs lowly.

Taeyong follows his eyes and sees the smiling man approach them with a grotesquely atrocious black cape on.

“ _Why?_ ” Taeyong asks martyrly. “Like, seriously, Yuta, _why_? That cape belonged to our grandfather.”

“Exactly,” Yuta says pompously. “That racist fucker would hate to know I’m wearing it.”

Ten sighs loudly. “Hey, Yuta.”

“Yongqin, my love!” Yuta exclaims, rushing to squeeze himself into the booth and scooch Ten with his ass until there’s enough space for him. “I was looking for you, so I followed Taeyong’s puppy eyes.”

Taeyong gasps scandalously, but Yuta doesn’t pay him any heed, staring at Ten with eyes so wide it feels like he’s high. Which might as well be true when they’re talking about Yuta. His perfume, oranges and vanilla, fills up the entire booth but somehow isn’t overwhelming, and Ten reckons he should be grateful. He spent the most unpleasant train ride with a man who seemed to have bathed in disgusting deodorant. 

“Why were you looking for me?” Ten asks tiredly, bypassing the pleasantries. “Also, there’s a moth on your shoulder.”

Yuta yelps and slaps it away before sniffing and rubbing his hands like a cartoon villain. 

“I just wanted to catch up!” He exclaims after. “See how you’ve been! Maybe invite you out for a drink!”

Yeah, definitely high.

“Don’t yell, please,” Ten asks politely. “And I’ll be happy to catch up,” — lies — “once you tell me about your whereabouts and actions last night at the ball.”

Yuta’s smile falters but doesn’t give up, only stretching even wider after a beat of silence. He barks out a laugh and fixes his fiery white hair.

“Oh, easy,” he says. “I arrived, I danced, flirted with Sicheng, _that_ didn’t work out, I got a guy, we hooked up in one of the empty rooms, I left around three. Taeyong can confirm.”

Ten looks at Taeyong expectantly. 

“I can confirm he left at three-something,” Taeyong says slowly. “But not the hooking-up part. Really, when? And with who?”

Yuta smirks devilishly. “Oh, that, I would like to keep a secret. It’s a man of upstanding honor and with a huge stick up his ass, and I would like to preserve his privacy lest he tracks me down and bites my dick off for telling people he slept with a vampire.”

The gears turn in Ten’s mind. He turns his head to meet Taeyong’s eyes, and it seems like they arrive at the same obvious conclusion at the exact same minute. Taeyong’s eyes widen as Ten’s mouth falls open.

“ _You slept with Doyoung?_ ” They screech at the same time. 

Yuta freezes, looking between them frantically with the fake grin still splattered to his face. Then, he sucks the air in through his teeth and scrunches up his nose.

“I didn’t disguise it very well, did I?” He murmurs.

“No, the _stick up the ass_ gave it away,” Taeyong responds before splaying his palms on the table and leaning in so closely his hair hangs dangerously low above Ten’s tea. “How could you?”

“Hey!” Ten contradicts. “Doyoung is a pain in the ass but just because he’s a witch—”

“No, it’s fine that he slept with a witch,” Taeyong rushes to say. “But _Doyoung?_ That dude already thinks his one purpose on this plane of existence is to make my life miserable, and you just went ahead and gave him a playing card?”

Yuta rolls his. “Actually, I gave you an advantage. Doyoung would choke before letting anyone know he sucked my dick.”

“Ew.” Ten shudders. “No details, please.”

“As you wish,” Yuta purrs with a wink. “But anyway, you can use it against him, for all I care. We were at it for two hours.”

Ten shakes his head and waves his hand dismissively at Yuta.

“Please, no more of this, I believe you,” he murmurs. “And now, I would really like to go bleach my brain and actually get some _work_ done.”

Yuta’s eyes light up as they fall on the notes in front of Ten. He grabs one before Ten can contradict. 

“Oh, you can cross Kun off,” he supplies. “I heard him getting down to business with someone in the next room while Doyoung and I were—”

“ _I know what you were doing_ ,” Ten hisses in disgust and rips the note from Yuta’s grasp. “And I’ll cross him off when I cross him off.”

He goes about fixing the order of his files. Taeyong clears his throat, and Ten looks up to see his pointed gaze. Ten shakes his head in confusion and mouths _What?_ before Taeyong jerks his chin to make him look at Yuta.

Who, Ten discovers, is pouting like a schoolboy and ripping a napkin into small shreds as he stares offendenly at the table. 

Heavens. Ten really forgot how high-maintenance everybody here fucking is.

“Alright,” he breathes out in defeat. “Tell me what you heard, Yuta, _please_.”

Yuta instantly perks up, a smirk coming back full force as he relays the details of his night.

19

_the night of the ball._

If Yuta didn’t know any better, he’d think Doyoung is high as balls. His irises are blown, visible even in the semi-darkness of the empty side room, and his hands are shaking so hard he can barely unbutton Yuta’s shirt without cursing. His mouth on Yuta’s neck moves frantically, leaving bites and marks that will fade before they even finish here, and maybe that’s why he’s so vigorous about it — sinking his teeth even harder, marking Yuta’s skin, painting the signs of his dominance all over his body. Yuta can’t deny that he’s enjoying it, especially because he, too, _wants_ these marks to be seen — especially by a certain fucking shapeshifter that had a meeting with Yuta planned but chose to go make out with Jaehyun, of all people. 

He can still see Sicheng’s devilish smirk as he saw Yuta watching, and that’s why he allows Doyoung to play him like a doll, but still, behind all the fake-enemies demeanor, he cannot help but worry about the witch leader. The man looks positively unhinged, and while Yuta’s self-obsessed enough to credit it to his own influence, he still feels there is something more to it.

“Hey,” he breathes out, head tilted back on the old couch that was so conveniently left here by someone who was clearing the room out from furniture. “You good?”

Doyoung raises his head, shaking it to get the hair out of his eyes as he licks his swollen lips.

“Do you care?” He asks hoarsely, cheeks flushed high.

Yuta’s first instinct is to snap, but he reins it in and arches an eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t be asking otherwise.”

A bitter smile appears on Doyoung’s lips before dissolving into the usual scowl.

“Don’t, then,” he advises before diving back in and finally discarding Yuta’s shirt to the floor.

Well. There’s that. Maybe, Yuta reckons, if Doyoung wasn’t such a fucking hardass, they wouldn’t have to resort to rare hasty hookups during parties — maybe, Yuta wouldn’t even fucking mind _not_ fucking other people if Doyoung wanted him to. Maybe, Yuta would even—

He hears the voices behind the wall and stops Doyoung, placing his hands on his shoulders. Doyoung stills, hearing it too, and looks up at Yuta, eyes as wide as ever. 

_“When will you fucking stop behaving like a toddler and grow up?!”_ Someone yells, and it’s not that hard to recognize Kun. _“This is fucking unacceptable.”_

He’s probably standing right by the wall, hence such a clear sound, but whoever his interlocutor is must be far away from him, because the response comes muffled.

 _“What’s your problem, dude?”_ Someone says, unrecognizable through the wall. _“You don’t have to be everyone’s moral police, you know. Nobody gives a shit about your ethics or whatever that shit you and your cult are snorting is._ ”

 _“It’s a_ code of conduct _,”_ Kun seethes. “ _And you wouldn’t know anything about it because you haven’t done a decent thing_ once _in your life_.”

A beat of silence passes before the other person speaks up again, clearer this time.

 _“Look at you, all fucking righteous_ ,” he laughs out. _“Do you think I haven’t noticed how you look at me? Just say you have a crush and go, because honestly, man, you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”_

Yuta can’t hold back a bark of laughter, but Doyoung slaps a palm over his mouth, his gaze thunderous. It shouldn’t look so intimidating considering he’s lying half-naked between Yuta’s legs, but oh well — it is. Also, arousing.

 _“What if I do?”_ Kun says suddenly.

Tense silence settles in both rooms. Yuta even forgets for a second he’s supposed to be getting laid, because he’s suddenly invested in Kun’s dick business. With a line like that? Whoever he’s talking to have been _wanting_ to fuck for some time now, and if Yuta thinks hard enough, he might be able to guess who that is.

 _“Well,_ ” the man says, much clearer and closer now. _“What are you waiting for?_ ”

What transpires next is hard to hear but easy to guess, so Yuta tunes out of it and looks down on his own hookup buddy, looking at him pointedly.

“You heard the man,” he says with a smirk. “What are you waiting for?”

With a growl and a slap on Yuta’s thigh, Doyoung returns to the task at hand.

20

Yuta leaves shortly after, reminding Taeyong to not be late for church and asking Ten to say hi to his brother. Ten flinches and refuses, but Yuta doesn’t seem to mind, only giggling like a kid and leaving into the foggy morning with his ancient cape flapping around him like bat wings.

“Is _everybody_ in this city fucking someone?” Ten asks incredulously, shaking his head and noting it all down.

Taeyong stays silent until Ten looks up at him, only to witness an almost malicious smirk that looks way too familiar.

“I’m not,” Taeyong says innocently. “Fucking anybody, that is.”

Ten stares. “And you’re not about to, so roll your dick back up.”

Quickly and silently, Ten settles the bill and gathers his things, intent on leaving Taeyong here, but of course — when was the luck on his side, ever? He doesn’t even get to take one step once he’s out of the tea shop without Taeyong running after him.

“So, where are we headed now?” He asks gleefully, tugging his gloves on. As if they serve any purpose but to make him look even more pretentious. 

“ _I’m_ headed to Kun’s house,” he informs. “I want to ask him what he was fighting with that man about.”

Taeyong snorts. “You won’t find him there. Werewolves always arrive first, so he’s already at church.”

Ten grits his teeth in annoyance that his lame hastingly cooked-up excuse didn’t work. He sighs.

“Well, then. Seeing as you’re not planning on fucking off, we might as well go to your house.”

“Oh, that quickly?” Taeyong perks up. “I thought I’d have to flirt with you more.”

“Ugh.” Ten regards him sullenly. “I want to take another look at Hyuck’s things.”

“Why?” Taeyong frowns.

Ten sighs, a huff of air leaving his mouth in a cloud of steam. He rubs his hands together, cursing himself for forgetting his gloves, and doesn’t miss Taeyong’s eyes flicking their way. 

“I just… feel like I’ve missed something,” Ten admits. “Namely, the motive. _Why_ would someone wish Donghyuck harm? I know this city is built on rivalries, but you and I both know it was never down to fatalities.”

“Hm,” Taeyong muses, slowly taking off his gloves and gesturing with them toward the car parked on the corner before giving them over to Ten. “So what do you guess?”

“Honestly?” Ten breathes out, fumbling with the gloves. “That it’s a prank gone wrong.”

Taeyong whistles under his nose. The car stops before them, and he opens the door for Ten to climb in.

“How so?”

“Well, look at this objectively,” Ten relays, getting comfortable by the window as he puts the gloves on. “He’s young, and he runs with the other kids, and we all know how they are that age. Remember what we used to pull? Spiked punch at a ball is child’s play compared to what we did in our day.”

“Spiked punch?” Taeyong frowns as the car takes off.

Ten hits himself on the forehead lightly, forgetting Taeyong doesn’t know anything about that. He relays it quickly, sharing what Jaehyun overheard and his own guesses that Jeno and Hyuck were behind the LSD in the punch — which, now that they think about it, was why Doyoung was so rattled he was willing to sleep with Yuta in the middle of a crowded event.

“Have you talked to Jeno about it?” Taeyong asks when Ten’s done talking.

“Not yet.” He purses his lips. “I can’t track him down, and that’s considering he lives in the house. But hey, while I have you — how familiar are you with your brother’s friendships?”

Taeyong pouts in thought. “I know _of_ them, but I stay out of his business.”

“Hm. And there’s nothing particular you could tell me about his relationship with Jeno?”

A shadow passes Taeyong’s face as he chuckles to himself.

“I know they’re friends, and I know they don’t advertise it, because… Well. Doyoung.”

Ten clicks his tongue but can’t disagree. Doyoung’s reputation could convince anyone to hide their relationship with his younger brother. 

“Seriously, that dude,” he murmurs to himself. “We had this fight yesterday, you know. About me leaving.”

It’s a dangerous territory — to share this with Taeyong, but something about their quiet and peaceful ride is lulling Ten back into the feeling of being known and seen and _understood_. Taeyong always got him like nobody else did, and he missed it. He missed this, _them_.

“He seems to think…” Ten trails off, but then sighs and spits it out. “He doesn’t seem to really understand why I left.”

Taeyong chuckles darkly. “Well, I can tell you why he _thinks_ you did it. He’s been making sure I pay penance for it for the past thirty years.”

Ten looks over at him, and somehow, for the first time since yesterday morning, he sees not Yongie, the boy who dumped him to be the king, but Lee Taeyong, the leader of a family that hates playing by the rules. He’s not just an older brother or a head of a clan, he’s the pillar of those people, their strength and support.

_How about the kid who was forced to take on not one but two families who were practically coming apart at the seams because the guy who was supposed to be there to help and support him went away and chased his own dreams? How about my dreams?_

He never asked, Ten realizes. He never asked if living with his choice was hard for Taeyong, because he always assumed it wasn’t — he seemed to be content with his decision when he told Ten they couldn’t be together while his father was alive; but oh, Ten was so obsessed with what it meant for their relationship that he never quite paid attention to the fact that Taeyong was young and powerless, forced to stand up to his beast of a father. He was only fifty when he took on the reins, an age that is so abysmally young for a vampire, and he had to do it knowing he gave up being with someone he loved for it.

Oh. Perhaps, Doyoung is right. Perhaps, Ten is just that fucking selfish.

“Well, he’s wrong,” Ten says aloud, contradicting his own thoughts. “You breaking up with me only set me free more, because I was running myself into the ground trying to find a way to be with you _and_ pursue my dreams. You took out the impossible factor and left me with an easy path.”

Taeyong meets his eyes, his own dark and hard.

“Was it, though? Easy?” He asks quietly. “For either one of us?”

Ten doesn’t respond. 

Mostly, because the answer he has to give should’ve been said thirty years ago.

21

“You know,” Ten drawls, swirling his drink around, “I thought this wouldn’t be as pretentious as I remembered.”

Taeyong chuckles into his glass and glances at him sideways. “And what’s your verdict?”

“It’s _exactly_ as pretentious,” Ten reveals. He smirks. “I have to admit, though, I did miss it in some way.”

They’re by the drinks table, a little set apart from the main crowd but still enough of a part of it that nobody gets a wrong idea and decides to talk to them. Ten scans the people, searching for Kun, his first agenda of the day; but instead, he notices a rather pretty sandy-haired woman making her way toward them with a look in her eyes that Ten would describe as perfectly spooked. Probably new to the city.

Taeyong notices her too and gasps in delight. Ten frowns at him, and then takes a closer look at the woman. Now, he’s not a jealous type — especially not the one who’s jealous of his ex-boyfriend — but it does get a little easier to breathe when he concludes she’s as gay as the day is long. He’s never known Taeyong to swing toward that way of the field, but oh, it seems that he’s been running into surprises left and right. You can never be too cautious.

“Dani!” Taeyong greets her, touching her elbow gently and turning her so that she hides them from sight. “This is Ten, an old friend of mine.”

“Friend?” Ten murmurs, arching an eyebrow. “Gee, how impersonal. Good morning, Dani.”

“Hi,” Dani says breathlessly, blinking a little too fast.

“How is the Bly Manor treating you?” Taeyong wonders politely.

Ten whistles under his breath and finds new respect for the human woman willingly spending time there. As kids, they used to run there and mess with the ghosts just for kicks, but he wouldn’t wish getting _stranded_ there for a night on his worst enemy. Ironically enough, Sicheng used to run quests in the manor before the owners came back from their prolonged vacation on another coast.

“It’s…” Dani trails off. “It’s going nicely, I guess. The kids are lovely. The staff is also very… entertaining.”

A primary urge to _dish_ has Ten leaning closer and playing with his eyebrows at the same time Taeyong lets out a delighted giggle.

“Really?” He asks conspiratorially.

Dani blushes rather adorably and smiles into her drink. “Yeah, they’re very accommodating.”

As much as Ten would love to hear more about that, he can’t help but notice a small commotion a few feet away from them. He looks over Dani’s head inconspicuously and spots Taeil giving Yukhei a verbal dressing-down in what is probably the loudest whispering Ten’s ever heard. Ten can’t make out the exact words, but he can guess the secret of Yukhei hanging out with a shapeshifter has escaped the throes of mystery. Yukhei lets it go on for another minute before snapping back at Taeil and sneaking away into the crowd. 

Ten bites his lip and asserts his chances. Kun is yet nowhere to be seen, but Taeil is his right hand, so talking to him first wouldn’t hurt. He still needs to know about _this_ man’s whereabouts, so starting with him sounds viable. 

He touches Taeyong’s elbow and apologizes to Dani for his sudden departure before making his way to Taeil, swapping his empty glass for a new one on the way.

Taeil notices him approach and visibly puts on a friendly mask. Wow. Jaehyun was right. Kun _does_ raise them to be polite. Ten decides to extend the courtesy and smiles kindly before making his case.

“Ah, yes,” Taeil sighs. “My evening wasn’t that eventful, to be honest.”

“People keep saying that,” Ten points out. “And then it turns out their definition of _not eventful_ sounds like my idea of a crazy Vegas weekend.”

Taeil laughs quietly as he fixes his cufflinks.

“We do tend to run a little wild on ball nights,” he admits. “But I promise you, my night was nothing out of the ordinary.”

22

_the night of the ball._

Taeil finishes his drink and immediately requests another from a cheery-looking waiter weaving his way through a dancing crowd. He feels on fire with anxiety and anger, and adding alcohol to that probably wouldn’t help, but oh well, Kun isn’t here to judge him. _Where is Kun,_ by the way?

He looks around the ballroom in search of the man in question, but he’s nowhere to be seen, which is not that much of a surprise in and on itself — Kun is not the most sociable of men. Taeil licks his lips in frustration and decides to shift his focus, but the only thing it does is landing on Sicheng.

Well. Taeil’s mind goes to the reason he’s this mad in the first place — Yukhei shaking it up with Jungwoo, and Kun’s possible whereabouts — giving Hendery a piece of his not-so-subtly horny mind, and he decides that if they can allow themselves to fraternize with the jesters, there’s no reason _he_ doesn’t mix things up.

“You look weird,” he says right off the bat as he approaches Sicheng. “I mean, weird _er_ than usual.”

Sicheng regards him with a distracted frown. “How so?”

“You have your scheming face on,” Taeil supplies. “And not the good kind.”

“Oh, and you know me so well,” Sicheng mumbles, cracking his knuckles angrily. 

This is usually the beat in the conversation where Taeil offers him a jab response, but something in him breaks on the behalf of the shapeshifter. He sighs and steps closer, leaning on the wall next to him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He proposes, regarding Sicheng’s shaking hands and wild hair.

Sicheng glares at him, because oh, of course, the great _Cutis_ leader Dong Sicheng doesn’t _talk_ about stuff, as he makes well known to anybody who will listen — but Taeil’s raised enough moody teenagers to recognize what they need and when. Sicheng is basically a Peter Pan wannabe, so the approach to him is not that different.

Eventually, he sighs, and the tension seems to leave his chest like a deflating balloon. He shakes his head and looks down on the floor.

“Not really,” he mumbles. “What about you? What’s got your panties up in a twist?”

Now, it’s Taeil’s turn to sigh wistfully. “I’m surrounded by hypocrites.”

“Ouch,” Sicheng pouts. “Easy, I’m sensitive.”

“You?” Taeil laughs. “Right.”

Sicheng gasps at him and sets out on a rant about being a delicate and gentle multifaceted soul while Taeil finds himself relaxing and finally enjoying himself during the night that was shaping up to be pretty awful. 

23

“I went home soon after,” Taeil wraps up. “Watched the sirens perform, couldn’t find my family, and so I didn’t have any reason to stay.”

“And you talked to Sicheng at…?”

Taeil hums. “Before the performance, I think,” he recalls. “And then right before I left for home, which was around three, I think.”

“I see.” Ten jots it down for the general timeline. “Did you see or interact with Donghyuck in any way?”

“Are you kidding me?” Taeil snorts. “Taeyong would have my head if I went _anywhere_ near that kid. Which, might I add, is very hypocritical, since he spent two hours yesterday chatting up his self-proclaimed mortal enemy.”

Ten looks up. “Doyoung?”

“Yep.”

He frowns. He particularly recalls Doyoung mentioning that Taeyong only talked to him for half an hour — but his confusion could be written off to spiked punch and his willingness to cover up the fact he hooked up with Yuta. Ten puts it away for further notice.

“Did you ever find out what had Sicheng all hot and bothered?” He asks instead of prodding further on that.

Taeil laughs under his breath. “As if. The man is complex and honestly brilliant but he can sure play dumb when he wants too.”

In his usual dramatic fashion, Sicheng appears in his line of vision right at that moment, talking to Kun, and, after some hasty goodbyes, Ten rushes toward them until they can take off again.

But, as his luck regularly goes, someone else appears right before him, effectively stopping him in his tracks. Ten takes in the lousy clothing, shiny smile, and wild black hair. He sighs.

“Hendery, I presume,” he says.

“Guilty as charged,” the man greets, offering his palm. “Nice to _finally_ meet you, I’ve heard so much about you!”

“Yes, I assume that’s what helped you in picking out the hooker your boss sent to my hotel room,” Ten says with a sweet smile.

Hendery gives him one of those fake self-deprecatory smiles and hangs his head. Jesus, it’s like the kid is auditioning for Hamlet.

“I apologize,” he utters, “but also I’m not sorry. Anyway, I heard you were questioning people and decided to come give you my account of the night myself!”

Ten squints at him. “Yeah, and you didn’t do it earlier because what? Dentist appointment?”

“Booty call,” Hendery replies without missing a beat. “I’m just doing my part as an innocent passersby, detective.”

“You _have_ to realize that is something someone with a guilty conscience would say,” Ten points out.

The wind brushes through his hair just as he lets out a hearty laugh, and _seriously,_ everything seems so staged it’s ridiculous. 

“So, do I have some dishing for _you_ ,” Hendery says, actually wiggling his fingers in the air like he’s at a nails appointment. “My night was going pretty dully, honestly, just some dancing and whatevs, but _then_ I decided to pop in to wish luck to my buddy Dejun — don’t tell Jaehyun we’re friends, please, he thinks I’m a bad influence on a boy, which, honestly? Come on, I’m like a saint compared to that dude, because _get this_ , I saw _him_ kissing _Johnny_ , which is like, _hello_? Literally everybody who’s anybody knows Mark has a thing for Johnny, which I thought was reciprocated until I saw him sucking on his supposed _sworn brother_ ’s face. I was _so-o_ shocked I ran out for a quick cigarette — don’t tell Sicheng, please, he’ll have a fit, even though I have some _pretty_ incriminating evidence that he flirted with _Yangyang_ , of all people, honestly, with all the people running after him, he chooses _that_ witch? Might as well go for Doyoung, because everybody knows Yangyang has hots for Dejun, but then again, Doyoung would rather shoot himself in the face than even _consider_ hooking up with him — but we all know how those proclamations go, eh? By the way, is it true that you and Taeyong used to go out or was that just gossip? Because everyone talks about it, but like, people talk a lot of shit that isn’t true in this town. _Anyway_ , so, I’m having my shame fag — something Yuta would say, by the way — and what do you know? I see Jeno and Donghyuck chattering away like squirrels, even though, and you didn’t hear it from me, I know another activity they like to partake in away from prying eyes, and I _may or may not_ mean smoking weed Jeno steals from the greenhouse — please, don’t tell Doyoung, I actually buy from Jeno and it’s the best stash in New England. I don’t know what went down after that because I went inside just as Donghyuck headed for the woods, and guess what I see? _Yangyang_ going to town on Xiaojun’s tonsils right there in the middle of the dressing rooms! Anyway—”

“I will pay you to stop talking,” Ten cuts in, mind reeling from the rant it just endured.

Hendery’s mouth snaps shut before flying open again a second later.

“You could’ve just asked,” he says with a pout. “I was just doing my part as—”

“—innocent passersby, yeah.” Ten flicks his wrist. “Tell me more about Donghyuck taking off into the woods? When was it?”

“Hm.” Hendery puts a pinky to his chin as he looks up to the sky in thought. “Definitely before the sirens performing, so I’d say around midnight.”

It checks out with Jaehyun’s story, and Hendery’s overall onslaught of information fits perfectly into what Ten already knows — but this detail is new. If he remembers correctly, several people were in the woods at the time, and while it’s a huge forest, _someone_ might have noticed Donghyuck wandering there.

But why? Was it his blood that Yukhei found? _Was_ there even any blood, or did he try to cover up for something Jungwoo and he did?

“You look like you’re having a brain baby,” Hendery drawls. “So I’m gonna take off.”

“Wait,” Ten commands, and Hendery freezes like a deer in the headlights. “Where were you during and after the performance?”

“Uh-h-h.” Hendery sucks the air through his teeth and looks around. “I watched the performance, and then I hooked up with someone.”

 _Of course_ he did.

“Who?” Ten asks tiredly.

Hendery bites his lower lip and regards him sullenly before letting out a huge sigh and leaning in.

“Alright, but don’t tell anyone,” he whispers. “ _I was with Kun_.”

Ten almost chokes on his spit. Well. He has to admit the chatty kid has taste.

“You can ask Yuta or Doyoung,” Hendery says matter-of-factly. “They were going at it in the next room.”

He runs away while Ten is busy cringing and disappears in the crowd. Ten stands there, gathering his thoughts and running into the same one all over again — he’s learned virtually everything about the various couples and hookups that’s been happening, but the information he’s actually after is scarce and incredibly hard to find. For now, he only knows that Donghyuck had a possibly-punch-related conversation with Jeno — who’s still in the wind, and ran off into the woods.

As he looks around, he realizes that most of the magic folk has left already, a frustrating fact that has him grinding his teeth. Taeyong appears by his side with a concerned look.

“Everything okay?”

“Nobody’s here,” Ten growls in frustration. “I came to this thing to line them up, but Hendery distracted me, and now they’re all gone.”

“Hm,” Taeyong wagers. “It’s good then that I’m with you.”

Ten whips his head around to look at him. “Meaning?”

Taeyong smirks and holds out his elbow. “I’m the leader of _Sanguis_ , Ten. When I call, they _have_ to come. So choose a place, and I’ll summon them there.”

Ten honestly contemplates turning it down because this whole thing — the leader attire, the elbow, the superior smirk — is as distracting as it is insanely attractive, and he just can’t afford to have that in his line of vision. 

But then again, Ten has never been that smart about his choices when it came to Lee Taeyong. With a sigh, he fixes his borrowed gloves and takes Taeyong’s elbow.

24

“You know, now that I’m thinking about it,” Taeyong starts, teething on a piece a dried mango, “I’m pretty sure I saw Kun and Hendery argue about something before disappearing to, as it turns out, fuck it out.”

Ten smirks into his tea as he flips through the notebook.

“I love being right,” he murmurs. “Anyway, people keep telling me about the argument you had with Doyoung that had him rattled enough to drink from a spiked bowl. I know you said it was about business, but care to elaborate? Also, why the hell are you eating that?”

Taeyong sucks on his teeth. “Potassium. And I was talking to Doyoung about a possible merge of some branches.”

Ten stills in his movements. “Seriously?”

“Aish.” Taeyong sighs and leans back in his seat. “I know it sounds insane, but that’s something I always wanted to look into. Since before I took charge. It was one of the things I wanted to do once dad retired, and we even talked about it with Doie — back when I could still call him that — but well. You know what happened.”

It’s not that uncomfortable as Ten expected it to be, but he still fidgets in his coat and fixes his collar.

“I keep running into the consequences of my actions,” he jokes. “Not a fan.”

“Hey, don’t—” Taeyong sighs wistfully. “Don’t blame yourself, please. I don’t, I promise. I thought about what you said, and you were right. You had all the rights to follow your dreams, and I’m sorry if I ever made it hard.”

Ten takes a sip of his jasmine tea to give himself a moment to think.

“You know,” he murmurs, picking at the little ceramic flowers on the cup. “I never stopped wondering. What if your father didn’t force you to choose? What if I didn’t want to leave? What if things worked out the way we dreamed they would?”

Soft jazz trickles in through the bubble of their own little world as Taeyong reaches over the table and places his hand over Ten’s, fumbling with his fingers. His own are cold, just as Ten remembers. Before he can overthink it, he turns his palm upward to meet Taeyong’s halfway.

“I think we were just too young,” Taeyong whispers. “It was unfair of the world to ask of us what it asked. You know, father only gave me twenty-four hours to think.”

“That’s not a lot,” Ten murmurs.

“Yeah.” Taeyong chuckles sadly. “I think he knew that if he gave me an hour more, I would choose you.”

It hurts, it hurts way too much after all this time, but for the first time, for some unfathomable reason — Ten doesn’t run from that pain. He faces it and looks upon its gnarled face, and he spits right into it. He spits into the face of the great terror that has been plaguing him since his youth, the terror that took away something that he loved so much — the only thing he ever loved with such intensity and doomed desire.

“Jesus, this is insane,” he says quickly, rushing the words out before they can escape him. “But what if we tried again?”

He looks up just in time to see Taeyong’s eyes widening, and the air suddenly abandons him struggling and gasping under the surface of a frozen lake. He watches a thousand emotions pass Taeyong’s face — joy, sadness, guilt, fear, and— and—

“Ten?”

Ten jerks his hand away and looks up in fear of— What? His younger self materializing out of thin air and telling him he’s making a huge mistake?

But, instead of a scruffed and rebellious kid, he sees a rather ripped long-haired man dressed like he’s out for a summer stroll and not a November walk through town. 

“Johnny!” Taeyong says first, recovering faster than Ten. “What are you doing here?”

“I got your note,” Johnny explains with a frown, holding up the note in question.

“Oh, right!” Ten exclaims with a self-conscious laugh. “Hey, sorry, I’m Ten.”

“I gathered,” Johnny nods. “Plus, Mark told me.”

That sickening expression he’s seen on Mark’s face appears on Johnny’s too, and Ten looks away — just to see the same one on Taeyong’s, only mixed with something akin to panic.

“I’ll leave you to get acquainted,” Taeyong rushes to say, standing up and fixing his cloak. “Ten, I staggered the appointments in a way that gives you half an hour with everyone you wanted to talk to, with ten minutes between each of those.”

“You’re leaving?” Ten can’t help but ask, an unknown emotion burning behind his eyes.

“I have a business meeting, sorry.” Taeyong flinches. “But uh, I’ll see you later, right?”

There’s so much hope in his voice Ten wouldn’t even dare to squash it — not even if his own soul wasn’t fucking _yearning_ like he’s fifteen again and seeing the scrawny vampire as something more than a friend for the first time — so he just nods with a small smile.

“Find me tonight,” he asks, hoping Taeyong finds everything he needs in his voice.

With a content nod and a quick goodbye, Taeyong departs, and Johnny replaces him across the table. Ten flags down the waitress and waits for Johnny to have his tea before he goes right in.

“So, Mark told me what happened between you during the ball,” he starts. “Which gives me your whereabouts for half of the night.”

“Ah, yes.” Johnny takes a big gulp of his tea before continuing. “Well, after the performance, Mark and I danced for a while and then went to take a walk around the grounds. Around dawn, I walked him home and left for the woods to get to my own house, and that’s about it.”

“I see. Did you see Donghyuck at any point in the night?”

“I think I saw him when Mark and I were coming back to the castle.”

“Where was it?”

“Just outside the statue garden. I think he was heading out, but I’m not sure. It was dark, and I was focused on Mark, to be honest.”

“Understandable.” Ten smiles a little to himself. Johnny has an aura about him that almost forces Ten to like him. He wonders if it’s a siren thing or a Johnny thing. “Mark also told me about the conversation you overheard?”

“Ah, yes.” Johnny frowns. “Jungwoo and Yukhei were arguing, they were the people I heard on our way out.”

Ten’s pen freezes over the notebook. “There were other people you met on your way _in_?”

Johnny clicks his tongue with a frown. “Yeah, uhm, I’m pretty sure I saw someone when I was running after Mark. At first, I thought I recognized them, but then we heard Yukhei and Jungwoo, and I just assumed I didn’t see clearly in the dark and while running.”

“Who did you think you saw?” Ten asks quietly.

“Hendery,” Johnny reveals calmly. “With someone else, I didn’t see them. I saw you talking to Hendery at church, so I assume he would’ve told you if it _was_ him.”

“He didn’t tell me anything like that,” Ten shares despite himself. “In fact, he seemed to share everything _but_ what _he_ was doing.”

Johnny laughs heartily and finishes his tea. “That’s shapeshifters for you. Listen, it might’ve not even been him. Again, it was dark and I _thought_ I saw someone.”

Ten squints at him, watching carefully how his lips stretch into a friendly smile, eyes twinkling with hominess. Picture perfect kindness. Ten doesn’t know if he _really_ trusts it.

“Right.” He clears his throat. “Anything else you can bring to the table?”

“Hm.” Johnny rubs his chin. “Full disclosure? I don’t think something terrible has happened to Donghyuck.”

“How so?”

“Have you seen how calm Taeyong is?” Johnny huffs. “Last year, Donghyuck fell at a function and scraped his knee. Taeyong wouldn’t let anyone leave until he made absolutely sure that nobody pushed the kid. He’s super protective over him, mainly because, I think, he doesn’t want him to follow into Yuta’s _or_ his footsteps.”

“I get Yuta, he’s not the best role model,” Ten says, even though he still thinks Yuta has more integrity than an average other person in Rosehill, “but why Taeyong? Isn’t he an exemplary head of the family?”

“Oh, he is.” Johnny refills his tea from a steaming glass pot between them. “But he wasn’t always like this.”

Ten sags back in his seat. “How so?”

Johnny regards him carefully before gently putting his cup back on the little plate decorated with blue forget-me-nots. He rubs his hands together, and Ten suddenly gets a striking flashback to the olden times — Johnny was barely a toddler when Ten left, but he was always a sneaky and lovable kid. It’s a pity they never got a chance to hang out.

_Maybe, this time around…_

Ten cuts the thought short and chalks it away to the pile of others with which he’ll have to deal with before seeing Taeyong.

“I’m not going to lie and pretend I don’t know who you are exactly,” Johnny says off the bat. “I was just a kid when it happened, but even I remember how unhinged Taeyong was for a good decade and a half after that. His father dying unexpectedly didn’t help the case. Taeyong used to never leave the mansion, always holed up in his office and working like a madman. I think the first time I saw him outside was like, fifteen, fourteen years ago? That’s when the vampires started attending the church again. Word on the street is, it was Donghyuck and Jaemin who forced him out of his exile. Yuta, too, and he only started partying after Taeyong started resembling a real person again.”

Ten swallows. “Jaemin is the only wild card here for me, to be honest.”

“Oh, he’s the sweetest,” Johnny assures. “He’s dating my youngest brother, Renjun.”

“Really?” Ten’s eyebrows fly up. “And nobody minds?”

“Why would we?” Johnny laughs a little loudly. “Oh, right, you’re Doyoung’s cousin. I’m going to let you in on a little secret — nobody really gives a shit anymore. After the old guard died out, people just kinda… stopped caring who sleeps with who. The issues can start when it becomes more than just a hookup, but mainly, as long as your dick doesn’t cause trouble for the family, you might as well go peg your mortal enemy.”

Ten can’t hold back a laugh that sounds a little bitter to his ears. There he thought he came back to the stagnated carbon copy of the Rosehill of his childhood, but it keeps proving him wrong. It’s better now, it seems. The air is clearer and easier to breathe in.

“I see.” Ten hums. “But coming back to Taeyong not being angry enough about Donghyuck. Why do you reckon it is?”

Johnny shrugs easily. “Can’t say. The general consensus is that he’s hiding Donghyuck somewhere and doing this whole thing for the drama.”

Ten almost contradicts before an unpleasant thought hits him — what if Johnny’s right? Taeyong has been glued to Ten’s side since the morning he arrived, and fuck, in just a few days, they’re basically picking up from where they left it off. The old beast of distrust raises its reared head even as Ten keeps throwing arguments against it — Taeyong wouldn’t stoop so low, and besides, he only found out Ten was back _after_ he stormed into Doyoung’s mansion to demand answers. Then again, someone could’ve tipped him off; it’s not like Ten’s arrival was a secret.

“ _Would_ Taeyong do something like this?” Ten murmurs, more to himself.

Johnny still answers. “That’s for you to decide, my man. You know him better than I can ever hope.”

Ten looks out through the window and into the foggy street, recalling Taeyong’s hasty escape.

 _Does_ he know him that well?

25

After an exhaustive day of questioning, Ten’s only thought and desire is to lie in his huge bathroom, at the bottom of a brass tub slowly filling up with rose water. 

But of course, as his luck goes, he happens to run right into Doyoung when he sneaks into the kitchen for the late-night snack. He freezes in the doorway when he spots his cousin sitting on the kitchen counter and devouring cookie dough right from the bowl. He notices Ten staring and pouts.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ten smiles. “You go, brother.”

He walks around the counter to get to the fridge and salvage some of the leftover turkey. When he succeeds and drags a chair to the counter to devour it, Doyoung is looking at him.

In the dim lightning and out of his usual sharp three-piece, he looks so young it makes Ten’s heart ache. He thinks back to their fight and clears his throat.

“I never apologized, did I?” He says quietly.

Doyoung shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. “Nah. But I guess it was implied.”

“Thanks,” Ten snorts. “But you don’t have to be nice to me. I fucked up, and I never even realized how much.”

With a sigh, Doyoung puts the bowl down and wipes his mouth with a sleeve of his pajamas. Yeah, he truly resembles his younger self, and in this moment, Ten feels like a teenager again, hanging out with his best friend without a care in the world.

“I was too harsh on you,” Doyoung admits, picking at his knee. “But it was just… I don’t know, it snuck up on me. All these years of tension and stress and one-sided conversations with you in my head. I know I said a lot of bullshit, but I didn’t really— I mean, I _meant_ it, but I’ve been over that for a long time now. I guess, the main thing I could never make peace with was losing… losing…”

“Your best friend?” Ten guesses.

Doyoung sniffs and nods quietly. Ten discards his food and climbs on the counter, settling next to Doyoung and grumbling about his old joints to get a laugh out of the man. When he’s seated, he wraps a hand around Doyoung’s waist and presses his lips to his shoulder.

“You have no idea how hard it was to adjust without you, Doie,” he whispers honestly. “Fuck, even after all these years, I couldn’t stop thinking how dope it would be to have you next to me. I was too much of a coward to admit it to you, but did you really think I would make all those international calls if I didn’t _care_?”

“I dunno,” Doyoung murmurs, looking down on his lap. “I just figured you were bored.”

“Lonely,” Ten corrects. “Why do you think I kept going on about how cool it was over there?”

“To brag?”

“Not at all. I think some part of me thought you’d get tempted and come to visit.”

Doyoung laughs and bumps Ten’s head with his.

“Idiot,” he says fondly. “I could never leave the family.”

“I know. That’s why I finally found my balls and came to _you_.”

“For a month.”

Ten swallows and takes a pause before responding. It’s more than enough for Doyoung to notice and whip his head up, eyes wide and glistening with hope.

“Ten?” He asks breathlessly.

“I don’t know yet,” Ten rushes to say, but then bites his lip and shrugs. “But I don’t know, I thought being back after so long would remind me of why I left. But instead, it kinda reminded me of the things that made me _stay_ here all those years.”

“Ah, don’t play with me like that,” Doyoung asks in a murmur, grabbing his palm. “I promise I don’t want to pressure you, but if you need to, I will chain Lee Taeyong in our basement naked to get you to stay.”

Ten bursts out laughing and slaps Doyoung’s shoulder.

“Shut up, idiot,” he wheezes out. “It’s not just about him. It’s about the family, too.”

A warm smile blooms on Doyoung’s face. “That’s nice. I wouldn’t want that man’s assprints on our grandfather’s quilt.”

Ten snorts. “Oh, and his brother’s are fine?”

Doyoung gasps and goes alarmingly red. “ _How did you know about that_?”

“My sources are plenty,” Ten snickers devilishly.

“The son of a bitch ran his mouth, didn’t he?” Doyoung asks with a squint.

“Yeah.”

“Bastard.”

“Eh, he’s not all bad.”

“You just say that because you want to get into his brother’s pants, _again_.”

“And _again_ , you’re one to talk.”

//

After an hour of wholesome and warm brotherly talk, Ten finally makes his way into his room and from there — into the gorgeous bathroom already prepared for him. He inhales the divine smell and sheds his clothes, checking that the candles James put out are secure and climbing into the water.

He hisses as the hot water covers his skin, but it’s a pleasant burn. He settles in, letting the bubbles cover him up, and leans his head on the headrest. It’s a pretty and rather on-brand bathroom, a huge space practically barren of furniture. Instead, there are candelabres, mirrors, and vitrage windows all around, covering the walls of the room with the bathtub right in the middle, next to a low table with supplies. Ten scans through them, noting only natural homemade elixirs and potions, and smiles to himself. He missed this.

As quickly as his body got used to the temperature, his mind drifts back into the case. He’s studied his notes hundreds of times already, and he can practically write a journal on everybody’s personal business, but after questioning virtually everyone who could be involved in anything happening at the ball, he still has only two facts about Donghyuck — he was seen talking to Jeno and then leaving into the woods. After that, it’s anybody’s guess.

Jeno is still nowhere to be seen, and Ten fears he’ll have to open an adjoining case soon if the boy doesn’t turn up. Doyoung, though, doesn’t share his concern as he told him that Jeno popped in for dinner and spent several hours with them before leaving for his astronomy classes. When asked about his conversation with Donghyuck, the only thing he confessed to was _considering_ pulling a prank on everyone. According to him, they never went through with it, and he has no idea why Donghyuck would leave into the forest.

“So useless,” Ten breathes out. “Everything I’ve done is so fucking useless.”

“I wouldn’t say so.”

It’s a wonder that Ten doesn’t yell, but he does jerk a little as his eyes fly open. 

“Hey,” Taeyong says from the window, wiggling his fingers as he smiles cheekily. He’s sitting on the windowsill, one leg still hanging out from the _fourth_ story of the house.

“I don’t remember leaving the window open,” Ten notes calmly. “And aren’t there vampire wards around the house?”

“Oh, please,” Taeyong snorts, leaning on the wall. “I’ve been sneaking into this mansion since before we started dating. If Doie wanted to stop me, he would do a better job at securing the protection spells.”

“Hm.” Ten licks his wet and warm lips and raises his hand to brush the hair away from his face. “So are you coming in or leaving? There’s a draft.”

Taeyong clicks his tongue and jumps down to the floor, flexing his toes in his boots as he looks down at his feet and finds them moving freely.

“Look at that,” he hums. “I’m still invited.”

He closes the window and latches it firmly before turning around and flapping his palm around his face, faking being hot. Ten doesn’t even fight it when a wide smile breaks on his face.

“So are you just going to stand there?” He asks, arching an eyebrow.

Taeyong regards him with a quizzical look before stepping forward and sitting down on the edge of the bath. Ten’s never been self-conscious about his body, especially not before people who've seen him naked during his most unflattering years, but it’s still surprising how free and unobtrusive he feels before Taeyong. Who doesn't even try to hide the fact he’s ogling him through the foam.

“You got a tattoo,” he points out, eyes glued to the star on Ten’s chest. Ten frees his hands from the water and puts one of the forearms on the edge of the bath, drawing Taeyong’s eyes to it. “Several, as I can see.”

“A lot changed,” Ten says, putting his other hand on Taeyong’s thigh. Neither of them care that it soaks right through. “I have a question for you, and I want you to give me an honest answer.”

Taeyong swallows visibly, eyes on Ten’s hand, before he takes a deep breath and stands up quickly to discard his shoes and cloak. Ten watches him in confusion as he leans over the bathtub and props himself on the edges before climbing on top and lowering himself into the water, clothes and all. Ten lets out a disbelieving laugh as he sits up to free up some space and Taeyong settles in, putting his chin on his bended knees.

“Shoot,” he says innocently, as if he isn’t sitting fully clothed in Ten’s revered bath.

“I can’t stand you,” he says, but then shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “Do you know where Donghyuck is?”

To his name, Taeyong doesn’t rush to deny it or puts up an offended act. His eyes travel over Ten’s face for a few seconds before his eyelashes flatter.

“No,” he answers, and Ten _believes_ him. “But I do realize I owe you an explanation on my… being so calm.”

Ten can’t really relax anymore, but he still does his all to appear trustworthy and lenient. He props his back against the bathtub and nods for Taeyong to continue.

“I don’t think you realized this when you were away,” Taeyong starts, “but a lot of people — kids — in the city idolized you for what you did.”

“What?” Ten sputters.

“Yeah.” Taeyong chuckles. “Jeno and Donghyuck especially, even more so when they grew up and grasped what happened fully. Why do you look so surprised? You did something nobody ever thought was _possible_ to do, let alone allowed. You followed your dreams, not your duty, and while _some people_ in this house think you were being selfish, all you really were was — free. Young and free, never listening to what people tell you, always plowing your own lane. That was one of the reasons I loved you so much, and that was why you’re still an icon to every teenager in town.”

Ten doesn’t really know what to say to that, so he sits there, stewing in hot water and realization that his actions have _way more_ consequences than he ever anticipated. All he did was run away from a suffocating reality. Is that what some of these kids feel, too? Was that what Donghyuck was feeling?

“Donghyuck always remembered you as this perfect person,” Taeyong recalls in a hushed voice. “I certainly never did anything to disprove that, nor did I have a reason to. I might have even added wood to that fire. And he was always a free-spirited kid, craving for his own truth.”

“Oh.” Ten swallows thickly. “And you think he might have ran away too?”

With a shrug, Taeyong reaches out to take Ten’s hand in his. His own are warm now from the water, but Ten can still feel the underlying frost of his true skin. Ten always thought it was lovely.

“If that’s true,” Ten whispers, “why are you looking for him? Isn’t it better to let him go?”

Taeyong's grasp on his fingers tightens.

“I already let one person I loved get away without letting them know I would support their every decision,” he says firmly. “I’m not letting Donghyuck get away thinking I never cared.”

A petty, bitter thought tries to peck its way through — _why did you never write, then?_ — but Ten doesn’t let it. Instead, he tugs at Taeyong’s wrist and beckons him forward until Taeyong takes the hint and sits up to move and lean over. Ten lies down to allow Taeyong to hover above him, and even if his clothes are too much of an obstruction, he feels like their skin is flush against each other.

“I think he knows,” he says, looking up at Taeyong’s reddish eyes. “And I’ll find him to make sure of that.”

Taeyong’s lips tremble as he nods in gratitude. Ten reaches out to card his hand through Tayeong’s hair, cupping his head and tugging him lower.

“ _I knew_ ,” he whispers. “ _I still know_.”

“Good,” Taeyong murmurs back. His fingers nib at Ten’s jaw, his thumb brushing across his lower lip. “Because it’s still the same.”

“What?” Ten asks, desperate to validate that annoying fucking _longing_ he’s been nursing since he first saw Lee Taeyong after thirty years of radio silence.

“My feelings for you,” Taeyong answers, eyes wide and worth being lost in. “They’re still the same, Yongqin.”

When Taeyong kisses him, Ten finds that there’s truth to his words in every regard — for Ten’s feelings, it seems, have not changed a bit, either.

26

When Ten wakes up the next morning feeling more rested than he’s been in decades — being thoroughly railed by the love of your life does that, apparently — he reaches across the sheets only to find them cold and empty. His heart sinks as he slowly comes to and opens his eyes to verify what he already feels is true — Taeyong’s gone.

He swallows thickly, not letting bitter thoughts sneak through, and looks around. And of course, there it is — a pristine white note perched on the bedside table from Ten’s side. He smiles to himself as he reaches for it and flips it open.

_I hate that you have to wake up without me, but I had to get away before Doyoung found me. I’d want nothing more but to spend eternity in your arms, my love, but duty calls, too — I have something to take care of before I can see you again._

_Please, do continue your search. I will find you as soon as I can, and I hope no regrets have sneaked upon you in the night — for not a single one has plagued my dreams._

_Love, Yong._

“What a sap,” Ten murmurs to himself, but he doesn’t really have room to talk. His smile has no thoughts of ceasing. 

Ten puts the note where he found it and leans back on the pillows, closing his eyes and allowing himself to overindulge on memories of last night just a little bit. He certainly deserves it to just bask in the happiness he can feel bursting through his seams without troubling himself with complicated thoughts about the future and the meaning of what transpired here last night.

//

Surprisingly enough, the first person Ten bumps into in the hall when he descends for breakfast is none other than Hendery.

“The hell are you doing here?” Ten asks with a furrowed brow, freezing at the bottom of the stairs, his hand on the railing.

“Looking for Jeno,” Hendery states calmly with a shrug. “The rest of the family are out, so I felt safe enough to come inside.”

Ten can’t really believe this guy sometimes, but at the same time, he has to admire the guts of the kid. He joins him by the door and gives him a scrutinizing onceover.

“I haven’t seen Jeno in days, so good luck,” he murmurs. “By the way, why did you lie to me?”

Hendery gasps in offense, pressing his hand to his chest. “When?”

“During that…” Ten gestures vaguely in the air, “...Shakespearean monologue of yours yesterday. You didn’t mention you were anywhere near the woods.”

It’s a shot in the dark, because he still doesn’t know if Johnny was right or not, but based on his interrogation of the guests, there _was_ a small window when Hendery was unaccounted for. Kun never admitted they hooked up, too, which didn’t make Ten’s job easier. 

The shapeshifter in question rubs his chin, looking down.

“Not mentioning something doesn’t equal deceit,” he points out.

Ten snorts. “Lying by omission is shapeshifters’ trade of choice, so fess up. What were you doing there?”

“Ugh,” Hendery gurgles. “Fine. I was hiding the potion Chenle and I spiked the punch with. Satisfied?”

“Not really.” Ten squints. “Tell me how that went down, in detail.”

Hendery squirms in his place, clearly regretting ever taking the risk of coming here for weed, and looks around for an escape. Ten stands his ground, arms crossed on his chest, waiting for his answer.

“ _Fine_.” Hendery sniffs. “Just don’t tell Doyoung, he’ll have my head. Initially, I was supposed to get the potion from Jeno, but he backed out at the last minute and said he didn’t have time to cook something up, so I turned to Yangyang. He owed me a favor for setting him up with Xiaojun — which, by the way, don’t tell anyone, but Taeyong was actually responsible for that, seeing as he helped me but didn’t want to take credit — so he agreed to prepare the LSD for the punch. I met up with him in the dressing rooms, distracting him from sucking face with Dejun, and got Chenle to distract the others from the buffet. It was barely a job, honestly, everybody was already preoccupied with their shit. I went to pour the potion in, but halfway through, Kun storms up to me and starts hissing in my ear and dragging me away. People have him to thank, by the way, because if I’ve gotten my way, it would be much more potent. Anyway, he distracted me and I forgot to take the flask. It just stood there for two hours until I came back just to find out it was gone. I assumed Chenle got rid of it so I went to the woods to check out our hiding place, only to bump into Donghyuck. He had the flask and said he decided to help me out if I agreed to owe him one. I did, and he left, and after that I came back with them to make sure Kun wasn’t having an aneurysm. Jungwoo tracked me down and told me he saw Donghyuck with the potion. I haven’t seen Hyuck since.”

“Wait.” Ten holds up his hands. He’s getting better at filtering out Hendery’s rants. “But you told me you saw Donghyuck taking off into the woods _before_ the performance, and I already know you hooked up with Kun _after_.”

“Ah, yeah.” Hendery flinches. “I saw him two times. I just didn’t really mention the second one because he asked me not to.”

Ten stares at him intently, puzzle pieces rushing back and forth in his mind so quickly he’s struggling to catch up. 

So Donghyuck was still accounted for around three or even later, which means that he spent several hours in the forest before leaving or being taken. What was he doing there for so long? It would scarcely take him more than half an hour to hide the flask — and why would he stay there for much longer? What was he waiting for?

Who was he waiting for? And when did he leave?

“Oh shit,” Ten breathes out. “ _Oh holy shit_.”

27

The lake is lovely in the morning light, reflecting the grey dimness of reality and turning it into something of a charm. Ten watches the still waters, devoid of animals or flora, and tries to look through it — see the _Cantio_ kingdom hiding underneath. The Siren’s abode, secretive and concealed from the world with a thick layer of water only those of its origins are allowed to pass through. The outsider can only get inside if a siren sheds blood on them — a rather anachronistic but definitely intimidating tradition.

A branch crunches behind him, and he turns around to see the loveliest face to encounter in these places. Ten extends his hand, still covered in Taeyong’s gloves, and Taeyong takes it willingly. He doesn’t give Ten time for a greeting, drawing him in for a kiss that Ten returns eagerly.

It’s hard to break away from him, not after Ten spent so many years wondering if he’d forgotten how Taeyong tastes, but he has to. Duty calls.

“You’re distracting me,” he whispers.

Taeyong hums without a trace of shame. “I can’t find it in myself to feel guilty.”

“What a bastard,” Ten murmurs, and kisses him again.

He barely notices when the waters pass, and a young boy emerges from them.

Xiaojun clears his throat, and Ten steps away regretfully, but doesn’t let go of Taeyong’s hand.

“You were looking for me?” Dejun asks in a high melodic voice. Ten realizes he wishes he attended the ball after all, just to maybe hear the sirens perform.

“Yes.” He smiles and bows his head before turning to Taeyong. “I’m sorry, angel, but we have to part for now.”

Taeyong frowns and shakes his head. “I thought—”

“I’m sorry, but I need to talk to Xiaojun in private,” Ten whispers, pleading to Taeyong’s senses with his eyes. “I _swear_ I will relay everything later. For now, I need you to summon the inner circles and get them in one room.”

“Do you want a massacre on your consciousness?” Taeyong chuckles.

“I trust you to keep them in check until I arrive,” Ten says, and then quickly kisses Taeyong’s knuckles. “Please?”

Doubt written all over his pale face, Taeyong looks at Dejun before pursing his lips and nodding.

“We’ll wait for you in _Sanguis’_ drawing room at three, how about that?” 

“Perfect. Thank you.”

After a few seconds of hesitation and another kiss, Taeyong leaves, quickly dissolving into the mist. Ten watches him go, his heart sinking deeper and deeper as he prepares himself for a conversation he no longer wants to be a part of. It burns and stings, but he has to set it right. He has to, or everything he’s been fighting for will turn out to have been pointless.

“I apologize,” he says, turning to Xiaojun.

“No trouble,” Dejun assures him with a soft smile. Once again, Ten finds himself liking a siren immediately upon meeting one. “Love is tricky.”

“By heaven it is,” Ten murmurs. “I was wondering if you can answer a few of my questions.”

Dejun swallows and rubs his hands together.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the interview yesterday,” he rushes to say. “I was going to find you today to talk.”

“Strangely, I believe you,” Ten chuckles. He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I don’t really have questions for you. More like, I would like to tell you a story and see if you have any corrections for it.”

Steam brushes past Dejun’s face as he breathes out. “If you say so.”

“I do.” Ten smiles. “You’re the last piece of my puzzle, actually.”

28

He tilts his head and slowly regards everyone in the room, eyes squinted only barely. He doesn’t want them suspecting anything, but he does want them nervous. Squirming in their seats and throwing give-away glances at each other, wondering if he’s cracked their particular secret. 

Joke’s on them all. He’s cracked every single one.

“I’ve interrogated everyone in this room,” Ten drawls, not rushing it, taking his sweet time. “I’ve discovered a lot of secrets and tested a lot of theories. It’s hard to believe it was only three days ago, but in that time, an abundance of things happened.”

He doesn’t let his gaze waver to Taeyong, not when the answer to the riddle is fresh and glowing in his mind. He wets his lips and puts on a fake smile.

“You see, I kept feeling like there’s something missing,” he recalls. “One insignificant detail, one _tiny little_ thing, something that kept alluding me, and then, for a second, I assumed that nobody in this room took Donghyuck. That none of you touched him. That he simply — _ran away_.”

“Why?” Doyoung drawls. “Was he taking lessons from you?”

“ _That_ ,” Ten says, pointing a finger at Doyoung, “we will settle in therapy. For now, though, let me _speak_.”

Doyoung dismisses it with a flick of a wrist, a twinkle of humor in his eyes that appeared there last night yet persistent and letting him know Doyoung is just fucking around. Ten continues.

“So, if Donghyuck wanted to run away from home, where would he go?” He ventures. “None of his friends knew where he was — or so they said — and so it would be logical for Hyuck to take the first train out. Only here’s the thing — for such a developed town, there is only one train that stops here this time of year. The one at midnight, the one _I took_ , and I can assure you that I was the only person on the platform that night.”

“So he’s still in the city?” Taeyong asks with masterfully sprinkled hope in his voice.

Ten flexes his fists behind his back and ignores him.

“I’ve placed every single one of you,” Ten says. “Built a timeline of your movements and learned details of your sex life that I wish I could have _never_ come to discover. By yesterday’s evening, I knew everybody’s story, and I knew where everybody was during the night.” He slaps his forehead lightly. “Aside from one person, though. I know Sicheng went home with a lover, but there’s been so many accounts I can’t seem to put my finger on who his lover is.”

What happens next almost makes Ten choke on his saliva. As soon as he voices the question, not one, but _six_ people around the room raise their hands reluctantly before they look around and realize what just happened. Ten covers his mouth with his palm, hiding his snickering, as Sicheng regards them all, utterly unimpressed.

“Oh,” he drawls, “so _now_ you all decide to be honest about it?”

He’s met with six glares.

“Damn. I went home with Taeil, if that helps anyone.”

“It does,” Ten assures him. “My curiosity. But damn, dude. Congrats.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Taeil murmurs under his breath.

“Nope,” Sicheng says even more quietly.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Ten says loudly, bringing everyone’s attention back to him. “After I laid out the map, I realized another thing — a thing that led me to talk to Xiaojun this morning, who provided the last piece I needed to know the whole story. By the way, Doyoung, you are not allowed to get angry.”

Doyoung stares at him. “Well, I wasn’t going to, but _now_ I am.”

Ten smiles sheepishly. “Oopsie.”

29

_the night of the ball._

What Xiaojun loves most about having his own dressing room each time they perform is the opportunity to spend as much time as he wants making silly faces at the mirror without anyone making fun of him. Lately, though, another benefit presented itself in the face of being able to get some privacy to make out with his newfound boyfriend.

“It’s funny,” Yangyang breathes out between kisses. “Sicheng was coming on to me tonight.”

Xiaojun catches his jaw as it moves to his neck and squeezes his lips, forcing Yangyang to stop and look him dead in the eye.

“Word of advice,” he hisses. “ _Don’t_ talk about your casual _ex_ -hookup buddy while making out with your _exclusive_ boyfriend.”

“Noted,” Yangyang mumbles through Xiaojun’s grip. “It was just weird. I thought he had his sights on Yuta tonight, but apparently, he can’t find him. I think I saw him take Doyoung into an empty room.”

“Really?” Xiaojun asks, suddenly invested. He frees Yangyang’s mouth and gives it an absentminded peck. “That’s weird.”

“How so?” 

“It’s just…” Xiaojun bites his lip. “Have you noticed that _everybody_ from _Anathe_ seems to be really distracted today? Doyoung arguing with Taeyong and now the Yuta thing, that whole Mark and Johnny thing, _you_ with me. Where’s Jeno?”

“Uh, probably doing a deal behind the castle,” Yangyang says with a shrug. “Can we go back to making out now?”

They don’t get to, sadly, because Xiaojun’s private dressing room happens to have a huge window looking out into the stone garden, and just as he’s about to go in for another piece of Yangyang’s ass, he hears voices coming through the cracked vitrage.

“Doyoung will kill me!”

“Doyoung will _never know_.”

Xiaojun freezes on the windowsill. Yangyang’s grip on his thighs tightens as he makes sure Dejun doesn’t accidentally fall out into the street and give them away.

“Well,” Yang whispers. “You asked where Jeno was, there he is.”

For the second time, Xiaojun puts his palm over Yangyang’s mouth, only gentler this time. Yangyang licks his fingers like a misbehaving five-year-old that he is, but otherwise lets Xiaojun eavesdrop in peace.

“Are you seriously chickening out now?” Hyuck insists. “We’ve talked this over. We’ve _been_ talking it over for months.”

“I know, I know,” Jeno whispers urgently. “It’s just… I’m afraid to do this to Doie, okay? He deserves better.”

Hyuck yelps and throws his hands up in the air. “It’s not like we’re killing someone!”

“Lower your voice,” Jeno hisses at him. “You never know who’s listening.”

Xiaojun nods to himself. Jeno has a point.

“It’s not like it’s for a long time,” Donghyuck says, quieter this time. “We’ll be back in a few weeks, and they’ll be so happy to see us again they’ll forget they were angry about us leaving in the first place.”

Yangyang’s mouth falls open in shock as Dejun’s eyes widen. He inhales sharply, feeling as if someone struck him with a block of cement. _What the hell?_

“Alright, alright,” Jeno breathes out. “But I just feel like us missing the train was a sign of fate.”

“No,” Hyuck contradicts sweetly. “It was a sign that Sicheng is an annoying piece of shit that disrupted our entire plan.”

“True.” Jeno sighs. “Okay, you go first, I’ll come after you in a few hours.”

“Sure, I hope I don’t die out there alone,” Donghyuck deadpans.

“Oh, stop being so dramatic,” Jeno snorts. There’s silence, and then unmistakable sounds of kissing. “Alright, go.”

“I’ll see you in a few.”

They stay still until it’s absolutely quiet, and that is when Yangyang sharply steps away and starts buttoning up his shirt.

“Where are you going?” Xiaojun asks urgently.

“To get some sense into Jeno, of course!” Yangyang whisper-yells. “What is he thinking, running away? Who does he think he is, his rogue cousin? Jesus, that kid.”

Xiaojun jumps off the window and catches his wrists. “No, you’re not.”

“What?” Yangyang hisses. “Would _you_ let your brother run off with some kid to heavens know where?”

“If that kid was someone they loved and my brother was as smart and responsible as Jeno?” Xiaojun asks. “Then yes, I would.”

Yangyang purses his lips and pauses for a moment before bracing himself and putting on that mean mask Xiaojun _knows_ he picked up from Doyoung for moments like this — when he needs to be a bitch.

“Then we’re built differently,” he says evenly. “I’m sorry, but I’m going.”

He leaves without even waiting for a response. Xiaojun watches the door shut behind him and picks up a snowglobe to throw it at a wall. It shatters against the marble in thousands of beautiful sparkly shards, but they do nothing to calm the raging fire of grievance in Dejun’s stomach.

Jaehyun was right. Fucking with witches just isn’t fucking worth it sometimes.

30

Silence reigns over the drawing room as Ten’s words yet echo through its walls. He watches them all closely, reflecting on why he chose to gather everybody here when he only really needed a few people. Doyoung would argue he only did it for the drama, which _is_ a part of it, but mostly — it’s because all of them are long overdue for a lesson.

“So you’re saying…” Doyoung clears his throat, slowly looking over to Yangyang on his right. “Jeno wanted to run away?”

“He had a good reason,” Yangyang whispers with a frown, his own eyes trained on Dejun by the window. “I couldn’t convince him to stay, but by the time I found you to tell you everything, it was morning, and Jeno was safe and sound home.”

“I see,” Doyoung utters. “Where is he now, then?”

“He’ll be here soon,” Ten supplies. “And for what it’s worth, Jeno wanted to come clean to you instead of running from it.”

Doyoung’s lips tremble as they move around a question.

“Come clean about what?” He asks in a whisper.

“His relationship with me.”

Ten practically vibrates with excitement as the room explodes with gasps. He steps toward the board and rolls it away to reveal the man of the hour, if not the week, standing politely in his pristine clothes and waving to the room.

“Hey, folks,” Donghyuck sing-songs nervously. “Sorry for the scare.”

“I honestly didn’t give a shit,” Sicheng murmurs, but it gets drowned in the onslaught of questions.

“Where were you?” Mark asks, probably the only genuinely concerned person in the room.

“Renjun hid me,” Hyuck confesses quietly. “When people started popping up in the forest, I had to lay low somewhere before Jeno arrived, so Jaemin offered to take me to the sirens. I’ve been with them since the ball.”

Jaehyun clears his throat as several pairs of eyes land on him.

“What?” He exclaims. “ _I_ didn’t know. You know how many rooms there are in the undergrounds? The kids could’ve hidden a village in there and I would be none the wiser.”

Jeno emerges from the door, looking straight ahead of him as he joins Donghyuck and takes his hand. Doyoung drills him with an unreadable gaze, his face pale as snow.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” He asks in such an even tone it’s not possible to _ever_ distinguish what hides behind it.

“Because you hate vampires,” Jeno whispers.

Doyoung stands up in one smooth motion. “I _don’t_.”

“Gee,” Yuta speaks up. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Shut it,” Doyoung snaps, turning on him.

“Doie, _please_ ,” Jeno begs. “ _This_ is why I was so terrified of telling you! I was scared to the point Donghyuck proposed we run away for a few weeks to give you a good scare.”

“Oh, so it’s _my_ fault now?” Doyoung snarls. “For the record, I don’t _care_ , Jeno, you can date anyone as long as you’re happy, but don’t stand there and tell me you were only concerned about me when Taeyong is right there!”

Ten perks up and raises his index finger in the air. “That’s where the most interesting part comes in.”

He meets Taeyong’s eyes and puts on a friendly smile despite the hot needles that scorch through his lungs as he speaks the words.

“Taeyong was in on it,” Ten reveals lightly. “Organized the whole thing, too. It was a long game, wasn’t it, Yongie?”

He doubts Taeyong would say a word now if he was tortured for it. The vampire stands like a statue against the wall, ironically enough right next to the portrait of his father, his face even whiter than usual. Ten chuckles.

“You set everybody in the house up with someone,” Ten guesses. “Started it _weeks_ before the ball, subtly dropping hints to Johnny about Mark, coaxing Hendery into setting Xiaojun and Yangyang up. All you had left to do was distract Doyoung, but you didn’t account for the performance getting delayed and Doyoung getting high. That’s when Yuta came into play, right?”

“Uh, actually,” Yuta clears his throat. “I just genuinely wanted to dick Doyoung down.”

Jeno stares at Doyoung. “You got high _and_ slept with Yuta?”

“Oh, like _you’re_ the one to talk!” Doyoung squeals, gesturing to their joined hands.

Instinctively, Ten realizes this is his cue to leave. His purpose has been fulfilled, the secrets are revealed, and he is free to go and enjoy his vacation. He’s had enough dramatics to last him a lifetime, so he doesn’t stick around for all the monkeyshit throwing that he can already see starting.

Now, he can hole up back at home and lick his wounds, pointedly ignoring a white note on his bedstand — a note that came from a liar Ten has let into his heart once _fucking_ again.

Quietly and soundlessly, Ten slips away.

31

“Ten, wait!”

Ten speeds up, dead set on not turning around, not for this man, not ever again. He can already see the staircase at the end of the dark corridor and he aims for it, stuffing all the anger and pain inside and choosing to deal with them on his own, when he’s alone and preferably drunk as fuck. He doesn’t have anything else to say to Lee Taeyong.

“ _Please!_ ”

He doesn’t know why, but his body complies. Ten curses under his breath as he hears Taeyong approach hastily and turns around, choosing the offense as opposed to a pathetic defense.

“No,” he says firmly. Taeyong comes to a halt two feet away from him. “No, I’m not _that_ much of an idiot. I’ve burned myself twice already, and if you think I’m foolish enough to believe you _again_ , then let me tell something, mister, I will—”

“I love you,” Taeyong blurts out. “I never stopped.”

A whirlpool of buzzing emotions swirls in Ten’s stomach. He takes a deep breath.

“That’s your problem,” he pushes out through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, it is,” Taeyong says with a sad chuckle, taking a step closer. Ten moves away. “It _has_ been my problem all these years, because if you think you left my mind even for _one second_ , then _you_ are gravely mistaken.”

Ten chews on his tongue, nostrils flaring. His eyes burn, but he’ll be damned if he lets this bitch see his tears.

“You don’t lie to the people you love,” he whispers shakily. “At least last time you were honest with me.”

“As I was this time around,” Taeyong assures him. Ten snorts in disbelief. “Okay, listen, I know I lied about Donghyuck, but what else was I supposed to do? It was a fucking mess, and Donghyuck went _missing_. He didn’t board the train, he didn’t do _anything_ he was supposed to do, and I really thought something happened, maybe Doyoung caught them and locked him up or something. I was out of my mind until I came to the house and saw Jeno. I was so rattled after seeing you it took me a while to track the kid down and get the story out of him, and then Jaemin came to me and told me his boyfriend was hiding Donghyuck because Hyuck thought Jeno abandoned him and didn’t want to show his face again.”

“So you knew?” Ten seethes. “All this time, you knew where he was?”

“I only found out yesterday, and located Hyuck this morning,” Taeyong says, “and by that time, you were already so invested in it. When I came to you last night, I wanted to come clean, but then you— We kissed, and I thought — I can tell him tomorrow, and I was _going to_ , but you figured it out before I had a chance.”

Ten swallows and grits his teeth, _hating_ himself for seeing reason in Taeyong’s words, for _wanting_ to believe him, because full disclosure — it has been decades since he felt as happy as he did last night with Taeyong.

“Alright,” he breathes out. “But even if we disregard all of that, I can’t just… forgive you, Taeyong. I can’t _trust_ you again when all you’ve done was _deceive_ me. How do I know if what happened was real or your attempt to distract me from the truth?”

“I—” Taeyong sighs and closes his eyes briefly. “I _wish_ you arrived a week later or earlier. You were right in there — timing is everything. If this thing wasn’t happening around us, I would _still_ not be able to stay away from you. I would _still_ stalk you until you talked to me, and I would _still_ tell you I still loved you, because choosing power over you was the only thing I’ve ever regretted in my life.”

Ten throws his hands up in the air.

“Here you go again!” He screams, his voice breaking. “Waxing poetics when you’ve never _once_ reached out to me in all these years.”

Taeyong’s face shifts so quickly Ten almost steps away. It turns from pleading to determined, and he grabs Ten’s forearm.

“Come with me.”

“What? No, I—”

“ _Please._ ”

Once again, Ten complies, and once again, he can’t explain it as he follows Taeyong down the side corridor and to the rooms they’ve already visited once. Taeyong throws the door to his office open and storms inside, leading Ten to an adjoining room that, as Ten guesses, serves as a safe — or rather, _two_ safes. They’re lined in the walls opposite of each other, and Taeyong bypasses the smaller one to lead Ten to the huge in-built vault that spreads from the ceiling to the floor.

“You say I never called or wrote, never reached out,” Taeyong pants as he inputs the combinations and whirls the wheel around to open the safe. “You claim I forgot you.”

The metal screeches as Taeyong opens it, and Ten looks away from his face to peer inside. When he sees the contents, his stomach drops like a deadweight stone. He can’t — doesn’t _want_ to believe what he’s seeing.

“When you left, you asked me to never contact you, and I respected that,” Taeyong says, facing him, his eyes shining with tears. “But I couldn’t just fucking _forget you_ , not when every breath I took of the air I wasn’t sharing with you was like swallowing holy water.”

Taeyong steps inside, and the paper rustles under his feet. He spreads his arms as if to demonstrate the full extent of his heart’s insanity.

“Every time I thought about you,” Taeyong whispers, “every time I wanted to call you, or write to you, or sprint across the fucking ocean to you, I wrote you a letter that I never sent.”

Unable to stay still any longer, Ten steps inside the vault and takes it in.

Rows upon rows, shelves upon shelves, boxes upon boxes — all craning under the weight of _letters_. Thousands upon thousands of them, an uncountable amount of envelopes bursting from every surface and pocket of space that Ten can see, a huge room full of unsent declarations, spilling from their homes and onto the floor, old and new, some yellow with time and some yet crispy and pristinely white. Thirty years worth of pain spilled onto the pages that their recipient would never see.

“I _need_ you,” Taeyong whispers like a broken, defeated man. “I know I made a mistake, and I’ve paid my dues, Yongqin. You are someone I am destined to love, and I can’t watch you walk away again.”

Ten can’t find his words, his mind yet reeling from all the letters he can see, each of them marked with his name but no address — because Taeyong _did_ respect a heated wish Ten threw at him in the throes of his anger. Oh, how many times did he regret saying that over the years, how many times did he open his letterbox and skimmed through his mail in search of a tell-tale Rosehill stamp. If only he knew they were all here — hidden away in a vault of the man who never got over the mistake he committed.

“I was young and stupid and thought we can work even if I obey my father,” Taeyong says. “Today, I am older, wiser, and much more powerful.”

Before Ten knows it, Taeyong is next to him, his flushed face so, _so_ close to his, his fingers wrapping around Ten’s neck.

“If you asked me to choose between power and you now,” Taeyong whispers. “I _know_ I would choose you.”

“I—” Ten tries to say, but his throat constricts. “I would never ask you to choose between me and your family.”

“I know.” Taeyong smiles. “And that’s why I love you. Even if I was to be stripped of my _power_ , you wouldn’t make me abandon my _family_. Those things in our world come together, and you would rather break your own heart than make me walk away from my brothers.”

“You know me so fucking well,” Ten whispers, and there they come — his tears that no longer can be contained. “So tell me. If you asked me to stay, what would I say?”

A little sigh escapes Taeyong’s lips before he crosses the distance before them and kisses Ten, tenderly, gently, lovingly. Ten _aches_ for him, even when he’s in his arms, and so he answers the kiss, his fingers getting lost in Taeyong’s hair.

“I don’t know,” Taeyong whispers when they part. “I could never quite predict you.”

“But you always still understood me,” Ten responds. “You always accepted me.”

It’s too much. The heat, the confessions, the realizations, the fucking _regret_. His soul hurts with grief, mourning the things that he lost, things he could have had if he just stuck around or came back a little earlier. Things that could have been.

“I can’t,” Ten sobs out. “Not right now. I need to breathe.”

Regret breaks Taeyong’s face but he still lets go, stepping away from Ten and nodding. Ten heaves with suffocation and tries to get himself under control, stumbling away and bumping into a wall.

“I have to go,” he chokes out. “I need to…”

He turns around and walks out of the vault, holding the wall for support. He can hear Taeyong behind him, can _feel_ every movement of his body, every single breath he lets out, and he wants to scream at himself — why doesn’t he go to him? Why doesn’t he just turn around and get what he’s been missing for so long?

“Give us another chance,” Taeyong says. Ten closes his eyes. “Come to our tea shop tomorrow night at eight. If you don’t come, I will _know_ , and I won’t bother you again.”

Ten doesn’t respond. Wordlessly, he leaves.

Once again.

32

Taeyong’s fingers tremble so hard the little spoon chimes against the cup like he’s trying to beat out a staccato rhythm. He flexes his fists, forcing them to calm down, and breathes in the supposedly calming vapors of the mint tea, now almost cold. It isn’t here for him, but the man he ordered it for is refusing to show up, and if he doesn’t come through the door anytime soon, Taeyong contemplates chugging the tea and seeing what it does to his vampire body.

He looks over at the opposite seat, hauntingly empty, and closes his eyes. It’s nine already, and he should give up. He should’ve given up years ago, when he _told_ his father he did, but anybody who ever told him to get over Lee Yongqin has never been in love with the man.

There are people you fuck and forget. There are people you never get a chance with and think about sometimes for the rest of your life. There are people you love and lose and have to move on from, stash memories about them into the dusty corners of your mind until they fade away over the years.

And then there is Ten. The man he never stopped loving from the second he met him. The man he would never get over, not in another thirty or three hundred years. The man who took Taeyong’s heart with him across the ocean and kept for all these years, cracked but still his. Forever his.

The man whose departure put Taeyong on hold, entrapped his soul into the cage suspended in time and space, hanging in the air in wait for the man with the key to appear again and unlock it, allow it to breathe and live again.

Funny thing about the love of your life — what nobody tells you in the fairytales is that when the love is over, life still goes on. 

The bells over the door chime with a new arrival. Taeyong’s eyes fly open.

The key slides into the lock, and he stands up. His heart returns to its place, and the lock clicks open. Taeyong can breathe again.

What they _do_ say in the fairytales, however, every time without fail, is that your love will always return to you.

**Author's Note:**

> yeeaaaaah hope you liked it <33  
> i'll attach the playlist once the reveals are up~
> 
> edit 26.02 - [fic playlist on spotify.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2hEQE7hWXL6CmEy8Uer8uY?si=eOhQNdAJSgSyW-vNkYfqaw) yeah it's mostly the haunting anthology osts but i was going through its phase at the time of writing and it greatly influenced the vibes, so you know, sue me !
> 
> come talk to me~  
> [twt](https://twitter.com/misfiten) // [insta](https://www.instagram.com/romulusadhara/) // [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/limitlessworld) // [carrd](https://onefortheroad.carrd.co/)


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